#i thought you wanted a future but you just.. really didn’t..

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version): Future V

Alexia Putellas x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You bring home your girlfriend

It’s not often that Alexia finds herself pacing.

She used to do it a lot when she was still playing. She used to pace before big games, up and down the length of the locker room until finally being allowed out to warm up.

This isn’t like that in the slightest.

This is her meeting your girlfriend.

Your Real Madrid girlfriend.

Alexia had thought you were dating that English girl that plays for Chelsea but apparently that was ‘just a fling’ and ‘sleeping with a friend’ which is something Alexia wasn’t quite sure was allowed but apparently it was.

She knew she had never let you go off to Madrid for a girl’s trip with some of the girls you dance with.

Look what had happened.

You’re bringing home one of Alexia’s worst enemies.

It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth as she peaks out of the front windows to see a fancy car pull up. It’s certainly not yours but you’re the one sliding out of the passenger seat.

Alexia breathes out along sigh as she  pulls herself away, desperate to not let you see her lurking.

“Jaume!” She yells up the stairs,” You sister and her girlfriend is here!”

No answer.

“Jaume!” Alexia yells again,” Stop hiding in your room!”

She waits for a second and then Jaume’s desk chair scrapes against his floor and Alexia can move away from the stairs.

“Olg-“

“I’m already here,” Olga says, breezing into the room with a smile on her face,” Ale, you look like you’re about to pop a vessel.” Her finger smooths down the wrinkle in Alexia’s brow. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Our daughter is bringing home an enemy. I’m allowed to be angry.”

“You’re not angry,” Olga says, a soft smile on her face as Alexia glances back at the door,” You’re nervous. You just want y/n to be happy and you’ve not met this girl yet.”

“I just don’t get why she didn’t just stick with the English girl!”

“I thought you didn’t approve of Aggie?”

“I didn’t! I don’t! I don’t know.” Alexia huffs, glancing away. “I just want her to be happy.”

“And I’m sure she’s very happy with Olaya. Now, put a smile on your face and pretend you aren’t nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

The doorknocker goes and Alexia jolts in shock.

“Aren’t you going to get it?” Jaume asks from the top of the stairs and Alexia scoffs.

“I don’t want them to know that I’ve been waiting on them.”

“You’re so weird.”

Alexia ignores her son, waiting a few more seconds before opening the door, plastering an incredibly fake smile on her face when she looks at your girlfriend.

To her credit, Olaya Rodrigeuz doesn’t cower much outside of the usual ‘oh my god, Alexia Putellas is looking at me!’.

“Mami,” You say warmly and Alexia’s fake smile morphs into a real one.

“My bambi,” She coos, hands coming up to hold your face,” I missed you.”

“You saw me last weak.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss-“

Alexia freezes as something cold and wet brushes up against her hand and she shrieks.

“Oh, sorry,” You laugh,” This is Flower.”

“That’s a bear.”

“He’s a puppy.”

“Shit, y/n,” Jaume says, forcing his way through the door,” Where did you get a bear?!”

“A puppy.”

“Puppy, bear, same thing,” Jaume says dismissively,” Where’d you get him?”

“I bought him,” Olaya replies as the three of you squeeze into the entrance hall,” Y/n was talking about getting a dog and I saw an ad so I just bought him without thinking.”

It’s probably overreacting on Alexia’s part but she can’t help but notice all the little things as Olaya talks about buying you your dog (who apparently you’ve named Flower). Alexia’s eyes narrow as Olaya’s hand splays out against your hip, the way that she pulls you a little closer and they way you automatically tilt your neck towards her as she presses a soft kiss to just under your jaw.

Your girlfriend is a lot older than you. It’s obvious to everyone but causes the most worry in Alexia.

It was never a secret that you preferred older women. For whatever reason, girls your age never really interested you.

But it always made Alexia wary, especially when said older woman spent money on things like a puppy and held you so close like you were some piece of arm candy.

But that might have just been Alexia’s own interpretation of it.

“Food?” Olga offers up from behind and you stand, clicking your tongue.

“I’ll help. Come on, Flower.”

Your puppy pads obediently over to you and Jaume trails behind, trying to be as close as possible to the bear-like puppy with the flowers on his collar.

Alexia holds her hand out.

Olaya takes it.

Alexia squeezes, her face a mask of indifference.

“So,” Alexia says,” You’re dating my daughter.”

“Yes.”

“And you bought her a puppy.”

“She wouldn’t have done it for herself. She really wanted one but she was nervous to take the last step.”

“So you just bought her a puppy.”

“Yes.”

Alexia stares, long and hard until Olaya visibly slumps, shoulders closing in on herself.

“And the puppy is hers, right? Like if you break up, she gets to keep him?”

Olaya nods. “Yes.”

“Good because she really looks like she loves that dog and I don’t want him taken from her.”

“I only want the best for her,” Olaya says, seemingly uncowed now.

Alexia allows the silence to grow stale for a moment before she finally drops Olaya’s hand.

It isn’t approval. Not yet. But it’s a truce. It’s a ‘I’m not going to throw you out of my house just yet’.

“Now,” Alexia says, leading your girlfriend into the kitchen,” Why don’t you introduce me to my new grandson?”

[perfectlyvalid49]

I think that there are some people who are unfamiliar with the history of antisemitism who aren’t seeing all the different angles of attack that are being used against Jews in the United States right now, so let’s take a minute to examine them.

First, there’s the super obvious attacks that are listed here. The shootings at Tree of Life and at Poway, the Unite the Right rally, the massive increase in antisemitic hate crimes – these are all obviously antisemitic, and really difficult to deny as such unless you’re already really antisemitic.

But we have to take a step back and ask why people are becoming increasingly violent against Jews. Because that’s where there’s antisemitism that a lot of people either don’t see, or refuse to acknowledge. And that’s what @procrazedfan is missing when they said “I don’t think so this time.”

So, I want to start by talking about about the Nazis. Because they also went after non-Jewish people. They targeted non-Aryans, trans people, the rest of the LGBT+ community, and eventually people of other faiths. That list looks awfully similar to the one upthread. But Nazis went after these people because they thought that they were tools Jews were using to destroy German society. And the Republicans are going after these people because they’re tools that the globalists are using to destroy white society. And by globalist, they absolutely mean Jew. There are a million conspiracy theories floating around about why things are so terrible, and virtually all of them point to globalists (Jews), or the Rothschilds (Jews) or George Soros (a Jew) as the base of the problem.

And before anyone starts to think that this is only a problem on the right, the left has the same sort of conspiracies, just tailored to their beliefs, and using the words "Zionist" or "Israel" to mean Jews instead. Trump is in power, at least in part, because the left was too busy attacking Jews or people they perceived to be allies of Jews to even consider the harms a Trump presidency might bring.

And if you’re response to that is, “Well, yeah, but Jews aren’t being directly targeted by Trump’s policies,” then first off, you’re wrong, a lot of Jews are being/will be directly harmed by the laws enforcing Christian supremacy that he’s enabling (just as a start), but also, you’re falling for the plan. You see, for centuries, when kings didn’t want the populace mad at them, they’d find a way to redirect to the Jews. In medieval Europe, this looked like making tax collector one of the few jobs available to Jews, and then getting the commoners mad at the tax *collectors* instead of the guy levying the tax. Hundreds of years later Jews STILL have a reputation of being greedy, even though they were basically just guys who worked for the IRS because the other option was to starve.

Under Trump, it’s going to look like Jews not being the target of legislation that hurts other people. When those people and their allies are rightfully mad that they’re being hosed, it will not be hard for a few people in the right places to shift that anger from the administration (where it belongs) onto the people the administration wants you mad at.

We’re already starting to see this in action. Trump is cracking down on the pro-Palestine protesters in the name of fighting antisemitism. He’s actually testing out how far he can go with limiting freedom of speech and doesn’t care at all about antisemitism, but because he says it’s to fight antisemitism, people who care about freedom of speech are going to be mad about Jews “weaponizing antisemitism” to silence their detractors, and not at the administration that’s actually doing the silencing.

People are going to be mad under the Trump administration. I cannot imagine a future in which he does not make things worse for almost everyone*, and I think it’s going to be bad enough that the populace is going to need the pressure release of a mass violent action, and that’s where this is all going to come together. The right and left both already have conspiracies about how what they’re mad about is the Jews’ fault, and the administration is going to stoke that by making it look like we’re benefiting from their bad actions. They’re coming for us, it’s just slow enough and subtle enough that people who have forgotten what it looked like in the past won’t see it.

*I actually think that with what he’s going to for climate change, he’ll make things worse for actually everyone, even the people who benefit the most from his administration, but that’s a separate rant.

"The fascists hate you too" "they'll come for you next" bitch they are coming for me first. I'm fucking Jewish

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This Short: Three Little Words

Roman x black!oc 

Warnings: fluff, suggestive content 

Word count: 1.2k

a/n: going to start working on part six of ‘nights like this’ tonight. but in the meantime, i lowkey had the urge to write a little fluff lol. why do i feel like y’all are lowkey going to hate this man even more now lmaoo 🙃 click here to be added to my tag list 🤍

Roman’s backyard was filled with his family’s laughter and chatter. There was no denying that he enjoyed when they came to visit, however, there was just so fucking many of them it didn’t take much to become a slightly overstimulating event. 

He took a deep breath, letting the warm sun along with the calm ocean breeze relax him. 

As his family mingled, he couldn’t help but to grin at the sight of his two five year old nieces latched on to Zoe as if they’d known her a lifetime. Since the moment she introduced herself to them, the tiny gremlins hadn't left her side. 

Roman’s mom seemingly came out of nowhere and stood beside him, she smiled as her gaze shifted to the scene her son’s eyes were very much glued to.  

Her heart beamed as she watched Zoe play tag with her granddaughters, “She’s a lovely girl, Roman. I’m looking forward to seeing your own little ones running around here one day…” she teased. 

Roman smiled to himself, staying quiet as he took a sip of his beer. Truth be told, it had been a subject in the back of his mind for a while now. There were so many nights he’d lay awake thinking about their future, while Zoe peacefully slept on his chest.

For years one of his biggest fears was getting one of his fuck buddies pregnant. 

This was the reason his rotation consisted mainly of women on the WWE roster, they made it clear the last thing they wanted was to get knocked up at the height of their careers. Which worked out for him perfectly, because the thought of having a kid with someone he felt absolutely nothing for, scared him shitless.

That was until Zoe came into his life.

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was different. And in getting to know her, seeing her for who she really was, Roman knew there was absolutely nothing in this world he wanted to experience without her.

Roman’s mom studied him, because as good as he thinks he is when it comes to hiding his emotions, she easily sees right through him. “You love her, don’t you son?”

He’d never been more sure of anything in his fucking life, “With all my heart.”

“Then what’s stopping you from telling her?”

Roman looked down, his gaze focused on the grass. “I just…just don’t want her to think it’s too soon.” 

“Sweetie, look at her.” His focus was now redirected back to Zoe, her beautiful smile radiating as she was immersed in a conversation with Naomi, and his sister Mariana. 

“Zoe has been surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces in the span of a day, I’m sure that must be an overwhelming experience for her. Yet, she’s selfless, giving each and every one of us a glimpse of who she is, while still wanting to learn more about our culture and who you are.”

“If that’s not love…I don’t know what is,” she continued.

Roman stayed silent, while giving his mom a hug. He started making his way towards Zoe, but unfortunately didn’t make it very far, due to Jey and Jimmy stopping him to help make a damn bonfire.

They spent over twenty minutes setting it up, the task was slightly more difficult considering it was brand new and Roman had never used it before.

Once he was finally left to himself he made his way back in the house after noticing Zoe was no longer outdoors. Mariana couldn’t help but to laugh seeing her brothers eyes dart around the room trying to find her.

“Look at ‘Mr no strings attached’, finally introducing us to a girl. I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Shut up. Where is she?”

“She’s in the office,” Mariana walked in front of him, blocking his path. “I know you aren’t used to actually being emotionally connected with someone, but please don’t fuck this up Ro. Women like her, can’t be replaced,” she muttered.

“I know,” he sighed. Although his sister tends to annoy the hell out of him, he knows she means well. Her words lingered on his mind for a moment, Zoe's past experience with her ex was something he was always mindful of. Hearing what he put her through, was something he never wanted her to go through again.

She stepped aside as he headed for the office. Roman reached for the door, and carefully twisted the doorknob, “Hey, was wondering where you were.”

Zoe looked back at him, a smile tugged the corner of her lips. “Sorry, I wanted to make the girls a cute little bow for their hair.”

“Damn, they already got you wrapped around their little fingers huh,” he smiled.

“Something like that,” she chuckled.

There was a small sense of nervousness gnawing at him, deep down he wondered if telling her would scare her off. He knew this was a big step, and wholeheartedly understood the weight that comes with those three words. 

But there was absolutely no denying what he feels for her, she means absolutely everything to him. And whether she feels the same or not, he needs her to know.

Roman walked behind her as she stood cutting small pieces of fabric. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist pulling her closely to his chest, his head made his way into the crook of her neck, “I love you, Zoe.”

She paused slowly turning around to face him, tears brimmed in her eyes as she used both her hands to grab his face. There was a brief period of silence, as she looked into his eyes.

“I love you too baby.”

Roman smiled before pressing his lips into hers, Zoe stood on her tiptoes, attempting to slide her arms around his neck. He chuckled and picked her up, hoisting her on his waist. 

Their kiss deepened as Roman slowly began to inch up her dress.

“Roman not now.. your family is here,” she giggled.

“So what?” He sat her down on the table and slid his hands to the warm spot between her legs. Zoe’s mouth instantly parted as Roman’s fingers worked past the fabric of her underwear, teasing her already slick folds. “Let them entertain themselves for a bit, while daddy takes care of you.”

“Fuck...” Roman’s dick was rock hard as he watched her slide down her underwear and slowly spread her legs apart. Roman licked his lips, his mouth practically salivating at just the thought of tasting her sweet pussy. Just as he was about to get in position to feast on the woman he loved, a loud ass knock on the door interrupted them.

“One second,” Zoe scrambled to get off the desk and fix her dress, she was relieved Roman made the choice of locking the door.

“It’s Mariana, sorry the girls wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us for a swim?”

“Of course! I’ll meet you guys in a minute.”

Zoe turned to Roman as she slid her underwear back on. “You coming?”

His jaw clenched as he sighed, “I need a minute.” Zoe glanced down immediately understanding why. Roman’s huge bulge was damn near bursting at the seams.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” she kissed his cheek and discreetly stepped out of the room.

There was no doubt they were going to make up for it. 

All fucking night, that was for damn sure.

[silent-stories]

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: based on this.

Noah felt it before you even said a word.

That something sitting between you, like you were about to say something that was going to change everything. You were curled up on the couch, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve, your knee pulled up to your chest like you were trying to make yourself smaller. That wasn’t normal.

And then you spoke.

"I got a job offer."

His fingers stilled around the beer bottle, grip tightening just enough that he could feel the condensation slide against his skin. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t trust himself to. "Yeah?"

"In another city."

The words hit harder than he expected.

For a second, just one, he let himself think about what that meant—about this house without you in it, about days without your voice filling the empty spaces, about knowing you were somewhere else, somewhere new, somewhere without him.

And it made his stomach fucking sink.

But you didn’t belong here, did you? You never had.

You weren't his and he wasn't yours. All you had ever been was just friends.

He always knew you’d go. He just never thought it would be so soon.

You kept talking, explaining—something about better pay, bigger opportunities, a smart move. Noah heard it all, but it was like listening through static, every word just another reminder that this was real. That this was happening. That you weren’t just thinking about leaving. You were already halfway gone.

And what was he supposed to do? What was he allowed to do?

Because yeah, maybe he thought about it. Maybe he thought about pulling you in, pressing his forehead against yours, telling you he didn’t want you to go. That he needed you here, that he—

And then, for the first time, it really hit him.

He never told you. Never fucking told you.

Not when he first realized that the way he looked at you wasn’t the way a friend should. Not when you laughed at his dumb jokes, and he caught himself staring at your smile like it was something he could get addicted to, wishing he could bottle up the sound of your laughter, save it for the nights when the silence felt too heavy—when you weren’t there to fill the space beside him.

Not when you fell asleep on his shoulder during long car rides, and he stayed perfectly still, barely breathing, just to make the moment last a little longer. Not when he watched you dance around the kitchen in his hoodie, not when he felt his heart ache just being near you.

Not when he should have.

Not when it would’ve mattered.

And now, sitting here, the words he should’ve said—I like you. No, I love you. More than a friend. More than anyone—were useless. Too late. You were already slipping through his fingers, and he had no one to blame but himself.

So he stayed quiet. Because what was the fucking point now?

What was he supposed to do—throw everything at you now, at the last second, when you had a whole future waiting for you? When you were basically already half out the door? When he had every chance before, and he wasted them all?

No. That wasn’t fair.

Not to you. Not to the life you were about to build. Not to the love he’d never had the guts to give you.

So he bit his tongue. Kept his hands in his lap so he wouldn’t reach for you. Forced his voice steady as he said, "You should take it."

And fuck—he hated how easy it sounded. Hated that it came out smooth when his chest felt like it was caving in.

You hesitated. He could feel you watching him.

"You think?"

Noah swallowed hard, leaned forward, let his eyes settle on the floor instead of your face. "Yeah," he said. "Sounds like a great opportunity." Another shrug. Another lie. "You’d be an idiot not to."

The silence that followed was the worst part.

Because he could feel it—the shift, the way something between you cracked, just slightly, just enough that he knew it wouldn’t go back to how it was.

He tried to imagine what it would feel like to be around someone else the way he was with you. He’d never been able to picture anyone else in your place, never wanted to. You were a part of him now, you were the person who knew him best, the one he always leaned on when things got heavy, the one he could rely on when everything else felt like it was falling apart, the one who always answered his texts sent in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep.

And now you were walking away. And he couldn’t imagine filling that gap.

The comfort of having you around, the steady presence of your friendship, even if it had always just been friendship, was something he never thought would disappear. It was just always there. And it was hard, almost impossible, to wrap his head around the fact that it might never be like that again.

How would he ever find that again? He couldn’t even begin to picture it. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. You were it. And now, as he sat there, heart heavy with the weight of what he couldn’t say, of what he had never had the guts to tell you, he knew that he had just let you slip through his fingers. The easy, effortless thing they had—the laughter, the comfort, the quiet moments, the understanding—was something he couldn’t replicate. Not with anyone. Not now. Not ever.

"Right," you said, voice quiet. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

Noah didn’t move. Didn’t look at you.

Because if he did—if he saw the way you were looking at him, if he saw even the smallest flicker of doubt in your eyes—he knew he’d break.

And if he broke, he’d beg you to stay.

So instead, he just sat there, fingers gripping the beer bottle like it was the only thing holding him together, and let you slip further away.

A few days later, you were sitting on the leather couch in the living room of the house you’d spent so many nights in again.

Folio was giving you one of his usual "don’t forget" lists—one that had become a comforting part of your routine over the years for all the times you went on a tour or trip together. This time, however, it sounded different, as if it was the last.

"Okay, remember to pack all your jackets. And the extra batteries for your camera. Oh, and make sure you’ve got your phone charger, you always forget it!" He waved his hands in the air as though he was trying to remind you of the most crucial thing in the world, like the fate of the universe rested on you not forgetting your phone charger.

You chuckled, leaning back on the couch, a small smile tugging at your lips as you gave him a playful eye roll. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Nick. I’ll pack everything. No need to worry."

Folio grinned. "Good. You know I worry." He paused, then his tone softened, almost hesitant, like he was preparing to say something serious. "I’m really going to miss having you around. It won’t be the same without you here."

The words hit you harder than you expected. You had been preparing yourself for this goodbye for days, but hearing him say it out loud made it real, made it feel final. You swallowed, forcing a smile. "I’ll miss you guys too. And don’t worry, I’ll send plenty of pictures. And I’m sure I’ll come back to visit."

Folio nodded. "Yeah, of course. And we’ll come to visit you, too. So you don't forget us." He said it with such certainty that for a brief moment, you let yourself believe it—believe that things could stay the same, even when you knew they couldn’t.

But as Folio finished his sentence, you glanced over at Noah. He had been sitting at the other end of the room, quietly listening, but now he abruptly stood up, his movements stiff and awkward, as though something had snapped in him.

Noah didn’t say anything, just turned toward the door and walked out without a word. His departure felt like a heavy silence in the room.

You blinked, watching him leave, confused. "Did I say something wrong?" you asked softly.

Folio didn’t seem surprised by Noah’s reaction, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. "It’s been like that for a couple of days now," he said, his voice low. "I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s been… off. Something’s going on in his head, but he won’t talk about it."

You felt a knot form in your stomach.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had acted the first time you spoke about the job offer. That cold, almost detached response, like he had no opinion on the matter at all. You replayed it in your mind over and over: "You should take it. Sounds like a great opportunity." But something in the way he said it—something in the way he couldn’t even look at you when he spoke—made you wonder if there was more to his reaction than he let on. Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he hate you for making the decision to leave?

You tried to push those thoughts away, but they kept creeping back. It was impossible, you told yourself. He couldn’t possibly hate you. Because you were just friends, right?

But just friends never felt like the right term for what you two had. Not for the long nights you spent talking, for the way you always seemed to understand each other without saying a word, for how comfortable you felt in his presence—like you were home when he was around. It had never been just friendship for you. Not really. Maybe it had started that way, but over time, something shifted. You couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but you’d always known that your feelings for him ran deeper than what you were supposed to admit.

You thought back to that first time you’d met him, to the way he’d walked toward you with that easy, confident stride but still looking so damn shy. You liked his long hair t, and his eyes—those brown eyes, warm and sweet—that had locked onto yours in that instant.

He had smiled, and you’d felt it all the way down to your bones. It was like something clicked, something undeniable. That’s when you knew, even if you didn’t have the courage to admit it then, that there was something about him that made your heart race.

And all these years, that same feeling never really went away. Not when he touched your hip for a second to grab a cup from a high shelf you couldn’t reach, not when he would pass you the last slice of pizza even though he was starving, not when you’d sit together in silence and it never felt uncomfortable.

You told yourself over and over that it was just a crush, that you were just friends, but every time he touched you, every time his hand brushed yours or he’d take your hand in his while walking through a crowded space, your heart would skip.

And when he would hold your hand, you’d feel the heat flood your face, and when he was on the stage and his eyes locked with yours for a moment, it was like the world disappeared. It was just the two of you.

Did he ever notice?

Did he ever feel what you felt? Was it possible he ever sensed the way your heart raced when he would grab your hand, as if the world didn’t matter and you two existed in your own little bubble just for a while? You wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d caught the way your breath would hitch when he’d look at you with those brown eyes, like you were the only person in the room.

But now, all of that was left in the past. You were about to leave, and nothing between you two was ever going to change. You were just friends.

You thought about getting up and going after him. But what could you say? "I'm sorry I'm leaving?"

He was the first person to tell you to take that job, it wouldn't have made sense. So you stayed there.

The day had finally come. It felt surreal, the finality of it weighing on you as you stood in front of the door, ready to say your goodbyes. You had spent the last few days avoiding the inevitable, pretending like you still had time, still had something to hold onto. But now, as you stood there, your suitcase in your car and your heart feeling like it was somewhere deep inside your chest, the reality of leaving was all too clear.

You walked into the living room, where the band was gathered. They were all quieter than usual. Folio was the first to greet you, giving you one of his bear hugs that made you feel both comforted and sad at the same time. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Don’t forget the pictures. And don’t be a stranger.” You nodded, blinking back the sudden lump in your throat.

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” you managed to say, your voice wavering a little.

Then, one by one, the others came over to say goodbye.

“Don’t forget us,” Matt said, pulling you into a quick hug. “I'll miss the food you made for us.”

You laughed and pushed him away as he pretended to be hurt.

Finally, there was Noah. He was standing a little apart from the group, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t approach you right away, and you weren’t sure why that felt different. But when your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you could see something unsaid flickering in his eyes.

He stepped forward slowly, pulling you into his arms, and for a moment, you didn’t want to let go. You hugged him tightly, the warmth of his body against yours a reminder of all the small moments you’d shared over the years. You could hear his breath, steady and calm, like he was trying to hold onto this moment too.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and the quiet between you both felt almost too much to bear.

“I’m really going to miss you,” you whispered, your voice cracking just slightly.

Noah gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hand lifted, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face, a touch so tender it made your heart ache.

“I’ll miss you too,” he said softly, then, without saying another word, he kissed the top of your head.

You only looked at him for a few seconds before taking a step back, as if if you stayed longer, it would only hurt more.

Then, you finally turned toward the door, ready (or maybe not) to leave and start something new. But you also knew, deep down, that no matter where life took you, a part of you would always be right here, with them. And with him.

About two hours later, Noah was sitting on the edge of the couch, his leg bouncing up and down nervously, the restless energy radiating off him like a low hum. His gaze was distant, unfocused, as if he was somewhere miles away from where he actually was, lost in thoughts that seemed impossible to escape.

Nick, who had been trying to make sense of the silence in the room, finally broke it. "What's going on with you?" he asked, eyeing Noah with a raised brow.

Matt, who had been observing Noah for a while, leaned forward, a knowing look crossing his face. "It's about Y/N, right?"

Jolly, sitting across from them, raised an eyebrow. "Y/N?" he echoed, confused, like he hadn’t caught on.

Matt shot him a look as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course, it’s Y/N. He’s been in love with her since the first time he saw her."

Nick blinked, a little stunned. "What? And you never told me?" He looked genuinely surprised, a slight hint of betrayal in his voice.

Folio let out a smug little laugh. "Ah! I knew it. I ducking knew it!"

Noah, who had been tuning them out, suddenly snapped back to reality. He stood up, his frustration bubbling over. "Enough. You’re not helping," he interrupted, his voice louder than usual, the words spilling out in a rush. "I fucked up. I let her go. I feel like shit. Because…" He hesitated, but it was like the weight of it was too much to keep in. "Because I love her. I’ve loved her for years. And when she told me about the job… I thought it was too late to say anything." He shook his head. "I’m such an idiot. I'm such a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, you are." Said Folio, who had been waiting for the confession.

"It’s not too late." Jolly spoke.

Noah turned to him, shaking his head with a defeated look in his eyes. "Yeah, it is. She’s gone."

Matt glanced at his watch. "Her flight hasn’t left yet," he said, his voice steady, as if offering a lifeline Noah hadn’t considered.

Noah froze, his eyes wide for just a moment before the doubt came crashing in. "I can’t do it," he muttered.

Nick leaned forward, a serious expression on his face. "Do you love her?" he asked, not bothering with any other words, just cutting straight to the core of it.

Without thinking, Noah nodded immediately. "Yes," he said, his voice barely a whisper but resolute. "Yes, I love her."

Nick didn’t waste any time. "Then go," he said, his voice firm. "Go fucking get her."

The words hung in the air, and for a split second, Noah didn’t move. He was caught in all his own doubts, his fears, his regrets. But then, something clicked. Maybe it was Nick’s certainty, maybe it was the look in his friends’ eyes, but Noah felt it—he had to go. If he didn’t, he would regret it forever.

He had nothing to lose.

Noah never thought he’d be that guy—the one who ditches his car in traffic, sprints through a crowded airport, and makes a total fool of himself in the name of love. And yet, here he is, running through the terminal, heart hammering in his chest, lungs burning with every breath, because you’re about to board a plane and leave, and he can’t let that happen.

Traffic had been his worst enemy, but he didn’t care. His car had been left behind in the middle of the arrivals lane, engine still running. The thought of you, suitcase packed and ready to leave, was all he could focus on. Every second spent on the road felt like an eternity, but he had to get to you.

He run through the airport.

He narrowly avoided a child who’s been skipping along, then almost tripped over a suitcase abandoned in the middle of the aisle. He bumped into people left and right, his shoulder knocking into a couple who glared at him as he shouted, “Sorry! Sorry, I’m in a hurry!” He didn't wait for their response, didn't care. His focus was on you only.

He cut through crowds, hands brushing against strangers as he weaved between them, the sound of his own breath growing louder in his ears. Another wave of people blocked his path, and he barely managed to swerve, knocking into a woman holding a cup of coffee. It splashed across the floor, the warm liquid spreading out in a wide arc.

“Watch where you’re going!” she yelled.

"I'm so sorry! It's important, I swear!"

The overhead announcement blared, sharp and unrelenting. Final boarding call for Flight 237, please... He didn’t hear the rest. His mind was focused on one thing: You. The gate was in sight. There you were, standing at the counter, your ticket in hand, a look of quiet resolve on your face, your eyes scanning the people around you.

"Wait!"

Heads turned. People gasped. A security guard stepped forward as Noah sprinted toward you, chest heaving, his breath coming out in ragged bursts.

"Don’t go," he blurted out, his voice raw with desperation.

Your brows furrowed as you turned to face him. "Noah, what—?"

He took a step closer, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to confess everything he’d kept locked away for years. "I love you," he said, the words tumbling out, frantic and real. "I fucking love you," He could barely keep his breath steady as he looked at you, his heart thundering in his chest. "And I know—I know I should’ve said this sooner, that I should’ve told you everything before it got to this point. I should’ve been braver, I should’ve figured it out sooner, but I didn’t. I’ve been so damn stupid, too scared to say what I’ve been feeling because I never wanted to mess this up. But I can’t—I can’t let you go without telling you, because if I don’t, I’m going to lose you, and I can’t lose you."

He ran a hand through his hair, "I know I don’t deserve a second chance. Hell, I probably don’t deserve even one, not after all the times I avoided the truth, but please—please don’t get on that plane. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. It scares the shit out of me, honestly, because I’ve let you slip through my fingers, and I’ve never been more afraid of anything in my life than losing you."

He took a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. "Please, just… give me a chance. Don’t go. We can figure this out. You and me, together. I’ve been an idiot for not telling you this sooner, but I know now—I know what I want. And it’s you. It’s always been you. Just don’t walk away from me. Not when I finally have the guts to tell you that I have been in love with you since the first moment I saw you."

There was a moment of silence.

You were sure that a girl was filming the scene, ready to post it on tiktok, probably without even knowing who Noah was.

The security guard took a step toward him, but Noah didn’t flinch. “Sir, you can’t be here—”

"Just give me one second," he said with his eyes locked on yours, pleading.

You stared at him for a moment, a mixture of shock and disbelief in your eyes. Then, as if the weight of his words hit you all at once, your ticket slipped from your fingers and hit the ground. Without thinking, you grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss.

It wasn’t like the movies—there wasn’t a crowd cheering or anything like that. Just the hum of the airport and the soft murmur of an old woman sitting nearby, who, after a brief pause, simply gave a small smile as she went back to reading her book. It made you almost laugh, the absurdity of it all.

Noah smiled against your lips, the warmth of your kiss sinking into his chest.

“You are such an idiot,” you murmured, smiling through the kiss, your hand gently resting on his cheek.

“But an idiot you love, right?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the affection in your gaze. "Yeah, you idiot. An idiot I love."

You both shared one last smile before you pulled away, glancing back toward the gate. The security guard had stepped back, his hands raised in surrender.

Noah took your hand, leading you out of the airport, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

As you walked with him, you couldn’t help but tease him a little. "I never thought you’d pull the 80s movie move to tell me you love me."

Noah gave you a sheepish grin. "At least the security didn’t tackle me."

You laughed, the sound light and free, as the two of you walked through the terminal, together.

"You should write a song on that, you know?"

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can't be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I saw a photoshoot and lost my mind.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sigh and set the phone down, tilting your head back as you close your eyes. Exasperation, frustration, helplessness.

This is why you never had kids of your own. Your own teenage years were tough enough. Well, life has continued to shout that lesson in your face; things don’t always turn out how you expect. Or how you want. 

Let her make her mistakes, you tell yourself. No, no, you can be passive in your own life but you took on this responsibility. You can’t just wait and see how it turns out. Not like your mother did. She only got lucky you didn’t end up on a corner or like her. 

You take a deep breath and run your hands over your face. Your mother taught you many lessons without meaning too. Men, kids, all that domestic stuff is just a trap. You’re better off without having to figure out the mistakes of others.

That’s why you did this right? Because you want your sister to learn the same thing, to avoid the consequences of youth and short-sightedness. To escape that family curse that keeps you so cautious. 

You grab your jacket from the front door. She’s nineteen. Nineteen. An adult. You’re not her mother. No, but you won’t let it happen. Not to her. Not to that baby you spent your nights bottle-feeding as your mother spent her stipend at the bar or drove around with Robbie from down the street. 

It’s underhanded. Not what you should do. Not respectful at all but after the last time, you couldn’t let it go. You open the app on your phone. The dot that is your sister’s phone pings in the map. You zoom in and squint as you stand on the doormat. Really? 

You lock the front door and come down the front steps. The deep blue evening is starless as only the yellow street lights offer clarity. Oh, everything is clear. The apple is not falling very far. 

You drop your phone in the cup holder and turn the engine. The grumpy old Honda chugs to life and the stick cranks loudly as you put it in reverse. You don’t have much but you have the one thing you always craved; stability. You manage with what you have. 

You ease your foot off the pedal as you catch yourself speeding down the forty zone. You idle at the sign before turning onto the next street. You make a zigzag onto the main road. Your nape itches with impatience. How the hell did she get all the way out there, anyway? 

You grip the wheel and snarl at the windshield. You’re not a mother. You don’t have a maternal bone in your body. You were raised to be wary. By the time your sister came around, your mother wasn’t present enough to make much of an effort or impact. You suppose neglect can be just as lingering as resent. 

You keep one hand on the wheel as you chew your thumb. For all your attempts to avoid this fate, you find yourself where you didn’t want to be. Maybe not technically or even legally, but you’re stuck cleaning up this mess. 

You pull up to the bar at last. Take a breath. You are not an angry person. Not like your father. Yes, the surge comes from time to time but you control it. You repress it until it’s only a flicker in your stomach. 

You get out and lock your phone. You pocket your keys as you approach the door. Nearly wenty years since you’ve been in a bar, never of your own volition. You stare up at the marque. 

You were the same age as your sister then. The place was glowing and hazy. You entered to the clink of bottle and the buzz of the old juke box. Darts pounded into the bullseye and cues clacked on solids and stripes. Your mother was there hanging off a greasy man in flannel. She was too drunk to answer your question as you held her child on your hip. 

“Mom, where’s the money?” 

It fades away with the voice from your left. The man stands with arms crossed, “ma’am, you can go in. I don’t needa see ID.” 

You shake your head and make yourself enter. Your reluctance slows you along with the overwhelming wall of noise. Voices all around, music, glass meeting each other and tabletops, laughter, coughing, and snarling. The dim is lit only by the bulbs beneath the black shades, hanging from the ceiling. You squint to see through the glazed din. 

This isn’t your place. This is never what you would do for fun. Drinking, talking to strange men, spending what free time you have rotting away in this pit. 

You hear a familiar octave. Eva trills with laughter. Not that sardonic snort she gives you when you try to offer her some sense, no, that tinkling noise she uses when she wants something. It’s not a surprise, there aren’t too many reasons for a girl her age to be here. 

You find her along the bar. She sits sideways on a stool, one leg draped over the other. She’s everything you’re not old. Young, slim, and tall. You never grew much after eighth grade and you can’t do anything to stop time from its work. 

You cross the bar as the man next to her chortles and winks at her. His hand is on her stool, just by her hip. He looks about your age. You grit your teeth. 

You’re not brave or bold. You learned to survive by staying out of the way but you can’t just walk away from this. You know what older men want from women half their age. 

You clear your throat as you come up next to them. Eva ignores you as the man sends you a sneer, “can I help you?” 

You cross your arms. You’re not good at confrontation. Not with strangers and definitely not with men. 

“Eva,” you focus on your sister, “I’ve been waiting for you--” 

“Don’t pay attention to her,” she flutters her fingers. 

“Eva. You said you’d be home at eight--” 

“Ugh, you’re not my mother, okay? We both know where she is so just go away,” she snarls. She’s drunk. When she’s a few deep, she gets mean. 

“She’s grown,” the man insists. 

“She’s my sister, I’m talking to her,” you turn so your back is to him and you’re almost between them. “Eva, I got that job lined up for you--” 

“She said fuck off,” the man growls. You tune him out. 

“It’s good. You can take the year to build the reference then apply to the community college--” 

“You’re embarrassing me,” she hisses. 

“Would you get out of here?” The man pushes you so hard you stumble. You hit a table and gasp as the edge jams against your ribs. The people sat their grumble at you for spilling their drinks. 

“Johnny!” Eva cries out. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“You told her to get off,” he sneers. 

“Yeah, but you can’t just do that,” she whines. 

You steady yourself and apologise to the patrons at the table. You hug your middle and swallow down the pain. You swore you would never be pushed around by another man. 

You turn and march up to the creep. “You feel big picking on women? Huh? You feel like a man going after teenagers? Cause a woman your own age wouldn’t put up with you?” 

Eva tugs on your arm and says your name, “please, don’t. What are you doing?” 

“Do it again,” you goad. The words come out naturally.

You’re shocked by yourself but your reticence is dulled by that hereditary spark. That flame you’ve been tamping out for decades. Not like him. You are not him. 

“Pfft, don’t be a bitch. You already cockblocked me.” 

“No, you want to pick on me, pick on me.” You spit. 

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you here?” Eva snivels. 

‘Why are you here?’ Your mother drunkenly slurs. ‘I’m just having some funnnnnn.’ 

You stare at her. Eva wriggles and cries on your hip. You hush her, trying to comfort her. She’s hungry. You don’t have anything left in the can. 

‘Mom, that money was for her. Mom, where is it? Give it back.’ 

She chuckles and caresses the head of the man she sits on, “go talk to Chuck at the bar, he might give you a refund.’ 

Your name draws you out of the past. Eva shakes you as you snarl at the man. Your hands ball to fists. 

“There a problem?” A gravelly timbre undercuts your rage. 

Eva babbles again. 

“Walker,” footsteps stomp closer and Eva pulls you out of the way. 

You watch as a dark-haired man pulls the blond from atop the stool. He has him by the scruff, “what’d I tell you about fighting?” He glances at you then the foamy spill leaking onto the floor from the table as a server tries to sop it up. “You hitting women in my joint?” 

You quake with anger. This man thinks he’s a saviour. You don’t need him to defend you. In here, they’re all the same. 

“You better not come back,” the brunette growls and hurls the blond onto the floor. “This is the last time I’m tossing your ass out.” 

You watch the man’s shoulders strain the leather of his jacket. He’s broad, taller than you, like most, and about your age. He faces you. His hair is pushed back, the tails winging out behind his nape, his beard is thick and laced with silver, and he wears a golden medallion around his neck. His blue eyes scour you and Eva. 

“You alright?” He asks with a stitch in his forehead. 

“Just fine. Leaving,” you say as you twist your hand around to grab Eva’s arm instead. 

“I don’t put up with that in here. I saw that man up on your daughter and I shoulda stopped it earlier,” he intones. 

You scoff. 

“Look, you can have a drink on the house--” 

“I don’t drink,” you show your palm. “Excuse me.” 

You step around him and drag your sister with him. Under the ripple of anger, is fear. These men are dangerous. You forgot that at some point. Don’t ever forget that. You just wish Eva could see the same. 

You take her to the car as she stumbles in her heels. You open the passenger door and let her go. She gets in and you resist the urge to comment on her outfit. She can wear short skirts and crop tops, she’s an adult, but it’s too cold to not have a sweater. 

You go around and get in the driver seat. You sit there and stare at the wheel. You close your eyes and inhale. 

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Eva,” you snip and open your eyes. You brace the wheel as you look at her. “You saw what that man did. I’m a woman with no value to him, so when he loses interest, what do you think happens to you?” 

She mopes and looks at her lap. She twirls her thumbs round each other and sniffles. “I was only having fun.” 

“You can’t find someone your own age? Or maybe a hobby. Try the library,” you run your hands over your forehead. “I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to act like your mother, I want to be your sister. I want you to do better.” You slap your hands down on your legs. “You can make your decisions however you like but I just want you to think before you do.” 

“I’m sorry--” 

“You’re sorry. Again. You keep doing it,” you relent and slacken against the seat. “You’re not a kid. We both have to accept that.” 

You jam the keys in the ignition and turn. You sit up and peer around the lot. Your eyes snag on the figure standing in the glare of the marquee. That man in leather with the medallion. He watches calmly. 

You lean on the gas and steer around the lot. As you come closer to the bar, he waves with two fingers and winks. You frown and put your attention ahead of you. You just want to go home and go to bed. 

[christinesficrecs]

Hey! You are amazing! Thank you for everything you do for the fandom!

Do you have any recommendations for cute fics where they have pet names for each other?

Thanks!

Hey! ❤️ These are the ones I have.

I love this one if you haven't read it yet. 🥰

Baby, You’re Like Lightning In A Bottle by TriskeleHale | 35.8K | Explicit

Derek is ninety-eight percent sure Stiles hates him. So, he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

Sugar Pie (Honey Bunch) by larriecloudss | 2.6K

Stiles just really loves to annoy Derek with pet names.

Don’t Call Me Buttercup by ElloPoppet | 15.8K

Isaac wants to do Secret Santa. Derek is bad at gifts. Stiles helps, and also practices making Derek uncomfortable with awful, cutesy pet names along the way.

Derek secretly loves the pet names. Oh, and he loves Stiles as well.

The Moon’s Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific | 82.8K | Explicit

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

Inside This Place Is Warm by wolfcloaks | 40K | Explicit

Where Derek and Stiles are complete dweebs in love and jump to horribly inaccurate conclusions

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too by MereLoup | 82.9K | Explicit

Derek spent too much time, walking amongst the ashes of his life and refusing to move on into the future; refusing to move past the anguish. But somewhere along the way he found purpose, rebuilt this house, found his mate, and he realized that this didn’t have to be the end, that he could continue the legacy of the Hale pack and carry on the traditions and rebuild his life. And now, in this house, with his pack, he was beginning the next generation of the Hale Pack with the most incredible mate he could have ever dreamed of.

Six Minutes by  CosmoKid | 4.3K

“What do you want?” Derek practically grows when Stiles is near enough to hear. He can definitely feel the werewolf vibes coming from the guy as well as the fuck off vibes that roll off him in tsunami-sized waves.

Stiles has one thing he needs to say to Derek, but he also has eight million questions to ask him about the werewolf thing and he can barely sort out his thoughts as it is, let alone when there’s a ridiculously attractive werewolf who’s basically Adonis staring at him. Derek takes another drag of his cigarette and raises his eyebrows at Stiles expectantly. He shivers and blurts out, “Six minutes.”

salt and a waltz by  The Byger (Byacolate) | 7.4K

In which Stiles is a faerie and Derek is sick and tired of not being able to fuck him.

Hey Ewe by  wuffedoutalpha | 7.3K

In which Derek cares more than Stiles originally thought he did.

Or four times Derek sneaks Stiles gifts and the one time Stiles gets why (plus one).

Endearments and Interventions by  Captain_Loki | 1.2K

Stiles calls Derek ��baby” one time, and exactly one time only. It goes a little like the time he clasped a hand to Derek’s shoulder in the front seat of the jeep only three years previously. Derek levels him with the same incredulous look of stunned disbelief as he did then.

Even the stars they burn by  rufflefeather | 5.7K

Derek finds out quite by accident what makes Stiles shut up. If he reveals along the way that he didn’t always carry this darkness around, then that’s entirely Stiles’ fault.

Back to Beacon Hills by  surrenderdammit | 10.4K

Stiles is a born werefox, returning to Beacon Hills with the hopes of starting over and finding some sort of home again. Maybe he can finally stay in one place long enough for his scent to catch.

[angellekookie]

IN THE NAME OF LOVE & OTHER THINGS | MYG - Royalty AU [oneshot]

Summary: In which you really tried not to fall for him, but some things are inevitable, and you're ready to give u everything to be with him.

Genre: Romance (and maybe a little agnst? bro idk this was an accident

WC: 1.6 K

Warnings: None that I can think of, if I'm being honest.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Note: Yall this drabble was naawt supposed to happen but since it did, let's call it either a prelude or a spoiler for another project I have in the works. It has not been beta read or checked for errors any at all. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading it nontheless, it was a fun distraction ^^

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto & @strangergraphics

You two were never to meet. Afterall, you were both from two different worlds that only ever intertwined in the shadows. You lived in ballgowns and politics, delicate hands never even having to feed yourself if you lack any such desire on a given day. He lived in stone and clay and plaster, calloused hands rumoured to be tinged with gold or magic because of how he could bring any material to life. 

You were the daughter of a Duke, and while he was indeed a prodigy, the most sought after artist in all the four kingdoms, that didn’t mean the public would take too kindly to a relationship or marriage between you. It would never work.

It’s what you’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell him that whatever it was between you two had to end. There was no future for it, nothing to look forward to.

So why did you fall in love with him? Just when did you manage to fall for the Hands of Midas himself?

You wondered if it was between the silences you’ve shared, as he was a man of few words. Or maybe it was the dedication and focus he had when he was working. Perhaps, one too many instances of you watching him work on the sculptures your father commissioned for the parlour. Nights where you hoped, prayed, wished and even went as far as risking your dignity to beg and plead with the skies if they could make you marble or clay or anything just once. How his hands moved creating lines and shadows, bringing new life to every area he touched - it made you wonder if he could bring a new life to you too. 

You heard him laugh exactly once, but you vividly remember every smile and you secretly wished they were all for you.

If only you knew that Min Yoongi had saved every smile for you. 

He never wanted to be sponsored by the Duke. He didn’t want anything to do with any of the nobles. He’d wanted to stay home, with his family. All he knew for his entire life was art. His mother’s singing, his father’s painting and his own love for sculpting. He was always quiet, observing the world around him and seeing every flaw. But Yoongi thought they were beautiful, so he used his hands to create the world that he sees, the one he loves. He didn’t need anything else. But going to stay with a wealthy family would be good for his own family. He’d get a great education, a place to stay and of course, he could sculpt whenever his heart desired- that’s what his mother told him as she sent him off on the carriage when he was younger.

Of course he missed his mother, cried for the first and last time the day he left. He was sure nothing could ever make leaving home worth it, wanted to curse the Duke and everything he stood for ripping him away from his recently widowed mother. Oh how that quickly changed when a girl with the kindest eyes and the biggest and brightest eyes ran out just as he was getting out of the carriage at the duchy. He noticed the dirt on her cheeks, how she seemed unbothered; happy. How she dragged along who he would correctly assume was a younger sibling- though she expressed more discomfort at whatever she was unwillingly being volunteered into. 

Being sponsored by the Duke had its perks, though. Yoongi would get to spend his days learning whatever they thought he needed academically, and as soon as that was done he’d get to bask in the glow of his art and his loyal audience of exactly one. Just as he would trace the lines on his current project, you would be tracing him. Of course, he couldn’t help the smiles he desperately tried to suppress whenever you were around. That was the only thing that could happen between you two, he knew that. You and him could never happen, surely such a pairing would be doomed from the start. He could only ever dare to reach out to you in his most wretched dreams. That was as far as he would go.

That was how far he thought he would have gone until that day between the marble and the roses things went just a bit too far. Spilled wine, whispered confessions and shared desire broke years of silence and tension. Suddenly, the spectator was the centre of attention. Though Yoongi didn't miss the opportunity that you had always been the star in his eyes. A star he never thought he’d ever get to hold in his hands, despite the risk of being burnt.

The risk was great. He knew it and so did you. 

And yet you would find yourself wrapped up in Yoongi always, somehow. You loved him, you were sure. So what if the risk was drowning? Whatever great thing that you were born to accomplish in this life couldn’t compare to loving him, being loved by him. 

Your mother, ever the noble lady she tried to raise you to be, asked you if you were sure that this was what you wanted to do. Left without a word to speak to your father, you presumed. You knew what it would come down to at the end of the day, knew that surely you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. 

Your father was always the kind of man to talk about duty and honour. Never failing to tell you and your sister the importance of the roles you were born in. He’d always encouraged you both that being a leader in any sense of the word, was to be wise both in mind and the heart. You were in his office with your sister when he told you that knowledge was just a blade without the handle of wisdom. You were also in his office whenever he scolded you for something like missing lessons with the governess (again) or whenever he praised you for a beautiful painting you made.

This time, you sat stood before him, too scared, too nervous for the outcome. Hoping the ‘But father, I love him’ you were holding on your tongue would be enough of an explanation for him. Hoping that you didn’t break down and cry and beg and plead for him to let you go. That you really tried not to fall for him, but some things were inevitable. You had so much to say in your defense. All ready to run away should they decide to lock you up in the duchy forever or marry you off to some old widower. You weren’t prepared for when your father took your own hand in his, and looked at you with something that you truly did not have the words to describe. “Are you truly serious about this? Do you love him, ___?”

“With everything,” The tears you planned to use and beg were now threatening to make an appearance for a whole different reason. “I don’t want to have to live a life knowing I gave up the chance to love him.” You sat at his feet like you used to when you were much smaller. “I know you’re disappointed in me and that I’ve let you down but father, I’m-” 

You never got to apologise. Not when your father told you you had nothing to apologise for, that he knows this must have meant a lot to you since you actually wanted to apologise for breaking the rules this time. He hugged you and told you he’d already spoken to Yoongi, that you both shouldn’t just run away, that he’d take care of everything- that he could make sure you were safe one last time. What could you have possibly done, except cry while your father held you for the first time in a long time, for the last time in a long time. 

It’s how you found yourself still crying in the arms of your younger sister. You had come to tell her that you had made your mind up, you came to tell her goodbye.

Evening came, stealing away the daylight, but also bringing the time you were to leave everything familiar and dear to you behind. You were still in your sister’s room, head in her lap as she absentmindedly stroked her fingers through your hair. It was almost as if she was the older one today, but then again- she was always the more composed of the two of you. You were leaving her with a heavy burden, a great responsibility. But you knew that she could handle it much better than you ever would, with much more grace than you could even think to imagine.

“What is love, that you’re so willing to give everything up like this?” You took some time before answering your sister’s question, only to put your thoughts together. 

“Love is something that knocks on your door at odd hours in the night. It warms your cheeks when you're out during the day, it chases you through meadows- it’s an adventure that comes to find you when it knows you're ready to sacrifice everything to chase it. Eventually, you’ll find yourself where love  rests.”

“I’m afraid you’ve left me even more confused than I was three minutes ago…” She looked at you, the sad smile not reaching her eyes.

“One day, you will find love, and find yourself, and find your answer.” That’s what you told her as you embraced her for the last time for a long time.

You yourself often wondered what love was. But in the carriage your father arranged for you the night you left home, in the place you now live with a man you were convinced was born from your dreams, in the letters you exchange with your sister ever so often… You can safely say you found it.

AN: Thanks again for reading everyone, feedback is always appreciated 😘.

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @peoniesnro

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: No Rings, No Promises

@marshall-is-my-husband this is for you bebe!!!!

You never needed a ring. At least, that’s what you told yourself for years.

Marshall had been honest from the start—he didn’t want to get married again. After everything he’d been through, he just couldn’t see himself walking down that road twice. And because you loved him, you accepted it.

You had him. His late-night confessions, his quiet “I love you” whispered into your hair before sleep took him, the way he traced lazy patterns on your skin in the morning. You had the life you built together, and that was enough.

Until now.

Your best friend’s engagement party is a blur of champagne toasts, glittering diamonds, and well-wishes. You try to be happy for her, you really do. But as she gushes about wedding plans, the dress, the future she’s stepping into, something inside you aches. A small, persistent voice whispers—why not you?

That night, lying beside Marshall in bed, you stare at the ceiling while he sleeps. You love him, but is love enough when the one thing you swore you could live without suddenly feels impossible to ignore?

The thought won’t leave you alone. Days pass, and the weight in your chest only grows heavier. Finally, you gather the courage to tell him.

It’s late, the house quiet except for the hum of the TV in the background. Marshall is on the couch, feet propped up, a beer in his hand. You sit beside him, tucking your legs beneath you, nerves twisting in your stomach.

“I need to talk to you.”

His blue eyes flick to you, immediately alert. “What’s wrong?”

You exhale, forcing the words out. “I think I need some space.”

Marshall tenses. “Space?”

“I just—I thought I was okay with this. With being your forever girlfriend. But after all these years, I don’t know if I can do it anymore.” Your voice wavers, but you push through. “My best friend is getting married, and it made me realize that I want that, too. Not just a wedding, but the commitment, the promise. And I know you don’t, so I need time to figure out if I can live with that.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and heavy. His grip tightens around the bottle in his hand, jaw clenched.

“You knew how I felt about this,” he finally says, voice low.

“I did.” You swallow hard. “And I tried to be okay with it. But I don’t know if I can anymore.”

He looks away, running a hand over his face. “So, what? You’re leaving?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I just need time.”

Marshall exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t get it. We have everything. Why does a piece of paper change that?”

“It’s not about the paper, Marshall. It’s about what it means.”

His silence is deafening. You stand, heart hammering in your chest. “I’m gonna stay at my sister’s for a while.”

His head snaps up. “Just like that?”

Tears prick your eyes, but you force yourself to nod. “Just like that.”

You don’t know what hurts more—leaving or the fact that he doesn’t stop you.

---

Marshall’s POV

The house is too fucking quiet.

Marshall never thought silence could be so loud, but it is. It’s deafening. Every creak, every gust of wind against the window, every distant hum of the fridge—it all reminds him that you’re not here.

He sits on the couch, beer in hand, staring at the blank TV screen. The remote sits on the coffee table, untouched. He hasn’t turned it on since you left.

It’s only been a few days. It shouldn’t feel this different.

But it does.

He picks up his phone, scrolling through his contacts, stopping on your name. He hovers his thumb over it, debating whether to call.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he leans back and stares at the ceiling, mind spinning with thoughts he’s been trying to shove away.

Marriage.

That word alone tightens his chest.

He’s not stupid. He knows what it means to you. He saw it in your eyes when you told him you needed space, the hurt you tried to hide when you said I don’t know if I can do this anymore.

And the worst part? He should have seen it coming.

You’ve always been patient. Always accepted the way he is. Never pushed too hard. But maybe that was the problem—he got too comfortable thinking you’d never need more.

And now, he might be losing you because of it.

He runs a hand over his face, groaning.

It’s not that he doesn’t want forever with you. Hell, you are his forever. He just never thought marriage had to be a part of that.

His own history with it? A fucking disaster.

Marriage was lawyers and courtrooms, papers and signatures. It was love turning into something ugly and bitter. It was proof that forever could still fall apart.

And deep down, there was always that fear—what if marrying you changed things? What if it cursed what you already had?

But now, sitting here in the quiet, he realizes something else.

He’s already losing you.

Not because marriage will change things, but because not marrying you will.

And that—the thought of life without you—is more terrifying than any piece of paper ever could be.

He exhales sharply, pushing himself off the couch. His chest is tight, his mind racing, but one thought is louder than all the rest.

If this is what you need to believe in him—believe in this—then he’ll fucking do it.

Because if there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that he’s not letting you go.

---

Your POV

The first night away from him is the hardest.

Your sister’s guest room is quiet, too quiet, without the familiar sounds of Marshall shifting beside you, his deep breathing lulling you to sleep. You curl up under the covers, staring at the ceiling, willing yourself not to check your phone.

But he doesn’t call.

The days pass slowly. Your sister tries to distract you with movies, wine, and gossip, but nothing fills the ache in your chest. You told yourself you needed space to figure things out, to decide if you could live with being his forever girlfriend and nothing more. But the truth is, you already know.

You want to be chosen the same way you choose him. You want him to want you in that way, not just because you asked for it, but because he feels it.

And if he doesn’t… then maybe love isn’t enough.

By the third day, you start to think maybe he’s really letting you go. That thought is a knife to the gut.

And then—there’s a knock at the door.

Your sister peeks through the blinds, then turns to you with wide eyes. “It’s him.”

Your breath catches. Heart hammering, you move to the door, hesitating only a second before pulling it open.

Marshall stands there, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His hoodie is wrinkled, his blue eyes a storm of emotions. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, he exhales sharply, shaking his head.

“You really thought I was gonna let you go that easy?”

Your throat tightens. “You didn’t try to stop me.”

His jaw tenses. “I was pissed. And hurt. And I thought… maybe I was doing the right thing, letting you figure it out.” He drags a hand over his face. “But fuck that. I can’t—” He stops, shaking his head again. “I can’t do this without you.”

Your eyes sting. “Marshall…”

He steps closer, eyes locked on yours. “I don’t care about marriage. Not the way other people do. But I do care about you. And if you need a wedding to know that I’m all in? Then we’ll do it. Big ass wedding, Vegas chapel, courthouse, whatever. I don’t give a shit.” His voice drops, raw and honest. “I just wanna wake up every day knowing you’re mine.”

Tears slip down your cheeks. “It’s not about the wedding,” you whisper. “It’s about you wanting it. Wanting me like that.”

His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing your skin. “I do want you like that. I just didn’t know how much it mattered to you. But if it matters to you, then it matters to me.” He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you. I’m all in. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

You let out a shaky breath, heart full to bursting. “I don’t need a big wedding,” you admit. “I just need you to want forever with me.”

He smirks slightly. “Babe, I already got forever planned. The rest is just details.”

A tearful laugh escapes you, and he catches it with a kiss—deep, slow, and full of promise. When he pulls back, his eyes search yours. “So… Vegas tonight?”

You shake your head with a smile. “How about we go home first?”

He grins. “Yeah, okay. But don’t think this gets you out of a wedding. You’re stuck with me now.”

And as you lace your fingers with his, you realize—this was never about a ring. It was always about the promise. And Marshall? He’s giving you that and more.

[shmisky]

Of course you guys would vote for the hardest meta to write! 😭 ✨

Okay, let’s go! Teen Stans + “suffocating,” an attempt to understand the issues of their relationship from teen Ford’s point of view and the reason(s) for their separation. This is going to be long, but hopefully all the pictures and gifs make it an easier reading! There’s just so much to unpack...

It’s a sad subject in and of itself, but I did my best to wrap it all with a happier stancesty note! So trust the process! 🩷

I don’t think I need to point out, to most stancest shippers, where the word “suffocating” comes from. It was a very memorable scene, if nothing else, since a lot of people hated Ford for it.

[x]

I think it’s so obvious that Ford was projecting and actually talking about his and Stan’s relationship here that I won’t even attempt to prove that, hahah.

Now, is this Ford... A) talking about his true feelings regarding his and Stan’s relationship when he was young, even before the science fair incident, or B) lying to himself, as he presumably started to do ever since (but only after) the science fair incident?

First, I’d like to invite you to actually listen to Ford’s voice/watch his mannerisms as he says this, here (timestamped). The thing is that... he doesn’t sound very bitter! He doesn’t sound like he’s throwing shade at Stan. Instead, he sounds and looks—pay attention to his eyebrows—like he’s genuinely puzzled. Does Dipper... really think he’s not meant for something more? Why! He’s so brilliant, with so much potential! Just like Ford when he was younger! The poor boy must be really attached to his sister...

Second, I’d like to invite you to not be so harsh on Ford, as he says that it, nor she is suffocating—the relationship Dipper has with the girl, not the girl herself. Not that Ford can’t be mean! He can be terribly mean, sometimes, especially out of spite. But the man has some limits. He wouldn’t say this about his twelve-year-old niece.

Another thing to be taken into consideration is that Ford was convinced Mabel would be fine, since she had a magnetic personality. This is a trait he very likely also attributes to Stan! In TBoB, for example, he was convinced of Stan’s ability to make the waitress laugh. There’s a lot of evidence for the fact that Ford had no idea of how badly Stan was faring and/or would fare without him, due to the idealized version of Stan Pines in his head.

That said, here is the behind-the-scenes commentary on Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future:

Alex Hirsch: Ford offers Dipper [an] apprenticeship because Ford sees Dipper as somebody who’s special like himself. And that’s Ford’s great flaw, that arrogance. He believes there are special people and everyone else.

Jason Ritter: And that you can be held back by your siblings, maybe.

Alex Hirsch: Yeah, he believes that attachments are actually weaknesses.

It has been said before Alex is too harsh on Ford, hahah. Perhaps he is. But that’s something also made canon in J3 in many, many excerpts, and stated by Ford himself quite plainly here:

“I thought being a great man meant being alone.”

When did he start developing this mindset, though? Before or after the science fair?

I think some of you might have read the (in)famous TVInsider 2016 interview in which Alex states Ford saw his brother as a “bumbling leech” (ouch!) his “entire life.”

In terms of Stan and his brother’s conflict, we always wanted a moment where Ford saw that he was wrong. Ford’s spent an entire life imagining himself as this lone solitary hero and imagining his brother as this bumbling leech. From a narrative point of view, for Ford to see Stan be the hero finally lets Ford see the true side of his brother that he’s been too blinded by pride to see.

Now, an important fact is that—I think many people fail to grasp this—Ford looking down on Stan doesn’t mean Ford not loving Stan. My boy can and will multitask!

And, of course, “entire life” didn’t actually mean Ford’s entire life! It was definitely an exaggeration on Alex’s part, meant to convey that for most of Ford’s life, presumably from late teen years old to the current age, Ford looked down on his brother.

We know for sure that baby Ford never looked down on Stan, and in fact defended him from the Sibling Brothers in the last Lost Legends comic!

But one thing we also see is how baby Ford already shares, to a certain extent, adult Ford’s ambition:

Another trait, equally important, early on: the tendency to think he was special and/or different from everyone else, for better or for worse. Like one of the very first things Stan told us in his childhood retelling in AToTS, “As if his abnormally high IQ wasn’t enough, he also had a rare birth defect: six fingers on each hand. Which might have explained his obsession with sci-fi mystery weirdness.”

As he grows up, he also grows, understandably, very proud of his accomplishments. In Stan’s words, “Ford’s brains seemed to get more impressive every year.”

He grows to embrace the “freak” part of him more and more, both ashamed and proud of not fitting in. Like Bill so gently phrased it in TBoB: “The ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak.”

But what does this mean for his relationship with Stan?

I think the first thing we have to know is that Stan is Ford’s identical twin, something that is heavily alluded to in canon and confirmed by Word of God. The first comment from Alex regarding this matter that I could find was this tweet from 2015. Then it was further confirmed in the DVD commentaries.

Why is this even important? Twins of the same gender, especially identical aka monozygotic twins, tend to struggle with identity issues. Not only the same birthday, but the same face—that without having to share even a name.

The second thing is that they only ever had each other. I talk more about their codependency here.

Again, I borrow Alex’s words when asked about Shermie’s role in the family as Stan and Ford’s brother in a 2023 interview:

In terms of Shermie, I remember asking Rob or somebody at some point, like, “Would Shermie be here, logically? Do we have to see him?” I don’t really wanna see him. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in Stan and Ford being—sort of having only each other and then losing each other because of their different life paths.

The best example we have of this in the show is probably Stan’s line in AToTS, “Those bullies may have been right about us not making many friends, but when push comes to shove, you only really need one.” Stan not only acknowledges their dynamic, but sounds very content with it.

Was Ford content with it, tough? That’s... more complicated.

Like we’ve established, these two were identical twins (unlike Dipper and Mabel, fraternal and of different genders) and only had each other (again, unlike Dipper and Mabel), which not only exacerbated their codependency but also their identity issues. They were used to being two halves of a whole. It’s very telling that in AToTS, “the Pines twins” are both called to the principal’s office, even though only Ford should have been called. They were seen as a single entity.

And don’t get me wrong, Ford has always loved Stan so much. Perhaps part of him even enjoyed the fact his brother trusted and leaned on him so much, depended on him both emotionally and to... get a passing grade.

But for some reason, even before the science fair... things still grew quite awkward. From Stan’s Land Before Swine commentary (DVD extras):

Anyway, cut to high school, the guy’s never kissed a girl, prom is coming up, and he asked me for advice. “Stanley, I know things have been a little weird between you and me with college, but can you talk to me about girls?”

The interesting thing here, to me, is that Ford... straight up recognized the “weirdness” between them to Stan’s face! And the fact Ford felt the need to mention it, as if he couldn’t simply ask his own twin brother for advice about girls without making a sort of acknowledgement first! These brothers once told each other everything! How did things get to this point?

But wait... Stan says “prom is coming up”... The same prom at which they laughed together and shared a moment of camaraderie after Stan threw punch at himself to share Ford’s humiliation.

Which to me points to the fact it was something gradual, happening little by little, hand in hand with the sweetest moments in their teen years. It’s truly like this song in my (locked) stancest playlist:

Two birds on a wire

One tries to fly away

And the other watches him close from that wire

He says he wants to as well

But he is a liar

Imagine you’re Ford Pines. You know you are special. You’re both a genius and a freak. You are always praised by adults around you, by teachers, and finally, by your very difficult to please father. This starts to go to your head. You cling desperately to the “genius” part of your identity, so you can be more than a bullied freak. You grow even more ambitious. You can see a future for yourself.

You have a twin brother. You love him more than life itself. But everyone talks, and... aren’t they right, somewhat? Just a little bit right? Stanley isn’t a genius, like you are. That’s a fact. Stanley also doesn’t have ambition, like you have. Stanley isn’t a freak, like you are. It doesn’t mean Stanley isn’t cool! But you are... different from him...

And yet, despite all that, he’s your identical twin brother! You can only ever be one half of a duo. A single entity. Even your name, you share with him. He doesn’t seem bothered by that, but you are. Can’t you just be Ford, for once, no Stan? (Ironically, you miss the fact that your brother was always more under your shadow than you ever were under his.)

You start to think that the Stan O’ War isn’t anything more than a beautiful, but ultimately childish, dream. It isn’t very realistic, is it? You could be so much more than that. You could actually make a difference. You could prove everyone wrong about ever calling you a freak. You try to breach the subject with Stanley, but all he wants to talk about is this damn boat. And you care about it too, of course you do, but... Doesn’t he care about anything else?

I can see, so easily, the influence of other people on Ford slowly (and subconsciously) growing, even though his love for Stan didn’t diminish. I can see him noticing the mismatch between his ambition and Stan’s ambition, his academic achievements and Stan’s academic achievements... or lack thereof. Again, this is the teenage version of the little boy getting starry-eyed about seeing his own face in the papers. Except now, the possibility of Stan being there with him... doesn’t seem as likely.

I can see, also very easily, Ford having some intrusive thoughts, then immediate guilt over them. For example, after someone mocks Stan for his grades, Ford comforts him while thinking, “but yeah, maybe Stanley could really put more effort in—wait, what? He’s my best friend! I can’t think like that about him!”

Stan’s narration: “The future was looking bright... for both of us.” Oh, Stan... Ford’s smile looks painfully awkward.

Just notice the difference between Ford’s posture and body language there and here in college!Ford’s picture (and, again, look at Ford’s eyebrows, but also the way he leans in Stan’s direction):

It’s important to remember that this, too—the scene in which Ford smiles awkwardly—was before West Coast Tech.

But now, with West Coast Tech, he finally has something solid. Something tangible. A real way to make a name for himself. And he loves it. Now this is the face of true happiness, hahah!

He manages to win even the approval of his famously “not impressed” father!

But...

He’s visibly very upset by having his brother insulted like that, and he didn’t know Stan was on the other side of the door overhearing their whole conversation. But he also doesn’t defend his brother, like Stan likely would have, and Stan doesn’t see Ford’s facial expression, here. He just hears silence from him.

And then... Oh boy, the swingset talk.

“Joke’s on them if they think you wanna go to some stuffy college on the other side of the country,” Stan says, then proceeds to boast about their future adventures, only to end it all with a painful expression that shows he doesn’t believe what he is saying. He knows what Ford is truly going to choose.

Stan asks him what would happen if the college board was impressed with his experiment. “Well then, I guess you better come visit me on the other side of the country!” Which indicates he clearly didn’t expect Stan to come with him, either.

Then The Accident happens, and Ford reacts accordingly.

[x] [x] [x]

I’ve mentioned this on another post, but it’s fascinating to me that Ford knew what would cause Stan to do something like sabotage his machine. He doesn’t accuse his brother of feeling jealous of his success! Oh no, that’s not your typical sibling drama of competitiveness, nor lack of communication. Instead, he accuses Stan of sabotaging his machine so Ford would stay with him! And, while it had been just an accident... He’s right about Stan’s feelings.

We know Stan’s feelings about this. He says, with all the letters: “Without Ford, I was just half of a dynamic duo. I couldn’t make it without him. And now, thanks to that dumb college, I was gonna lose my brother forever.” I know the “forever” was perhaps Stan being a bit melodramatic (understandable considering his distress) but it also shows us he didn’t expect their relationship to go back to normal, or for the college to be just one passing fancy. He knew it would be just the start of his brother’s career.

And perhaps this is the last thing you’d expect me to bring up at this point, but...

Do you remember this episode? Little Gift Shop of Horrors?

We talk about Ford projecting on Dipper about a relationship being “suffocating,” but Stan was doing some impressive amount of projecting here too, hah, considering that he was more likely than not making up all the stories.

Just. This entire conversation:

Stan couldn’t be more unsubtle if he tried. And of course, Waddles chooses Mabel, his favorite person in the world. We know whose “favorite person” Stan wants to be...

I bet you would’ve liked for Ford to jump into your arms, Stan!

But again, back to Ford.

Yay, Ford is free of his suffocating relationship with Stan! Free to do things like looking at pictures of Stan with yearning! Writing that he misses Stan in code while yearning! Staring at the Gravity Falls’ lake with yearning because it reminds him of Stan! The last one in particular is very amusing to me because to study anomalies was basically Ford’s dream job and he loved Gravity Falls and... and yet! (You might want to read this for the full extent of Ford’s clownery.)

Free, too, to actively attempt replacing Stan with Fiddleford, Bill, and then Dipper! Because, again, he yearns!

Yeah, I know... Ford is quite confusing. What does he want? Everything and nothing, at the same time?

And now I need you to bear 🐻 with me and read this entire excerpt of the 2023 interview, most important parts highlighted in bold by yours truly:

Ford was very much us building backwards. The same way you know a black hole is there by the light warped around it, it’s like, you know the damage someone’s family has done to them by all of their weird tics and behaviors. So who is the character who would result in Stan being this hurt and needy and mad and also longing?

And so we came up with this guy who kinda seemed too perfect. And is distant. He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, “oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.”

I think he is, uh, deeply deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships. He doesn’t have friendships, he doesn’t have romantic relationships, he is someone trapped in a tower of his own mind and estranged.

(Alexa, play Oh No! by Marina and the Diamonds. Love using old memes.)

The stancest fandom has had for some time (as early as it existed!) a very interesting theory that Ford’s romantic feelings for Stan were the cause of Ford’s “suffocation.” And while I do subscribe to this theory myself—I mean, if you read the excerpt above as a shipper, especially my highlighted parts, it is extremely validating of this interpretation—I prefer to not disregard the other reasons why Ford might have felt this way, either! To me, for a better understanding of Ford, even cesty Ford, you have to put all the puzzle pieces together. Identity issues, an explosive mix of ego and self-loathing, growing ambition, and only then, as the cherry on top: Ford’ incestuous tendencies. You have the perfect dessert! Or a recipe for disaster...

My headcanon might even read as a bit contradictory, I know. Teen Ford growing more in love with Stan and growing to look down on Stan? At the same time? But this is Stanford Pines, you guys. A walking contradiction. The man is basically made of conflicting feelings. Cognitive dissonance is his hobby.

We know Ford has always loved Stan very deeply—and yearned for his company just as badly—through his entire adult life. So what, exactly, changed in old Ford for him to invite Stan to sail away together again, post-Weirdmaggedon?

Well.

First, he spent forty (40) years separated from Stan, and then almost lost him forever (or at least their relationship), from a certain point of view. Have you ever heard that saying that you only know the value of something or someone after you lose it? Teen Ford had never lost Stan, and didn’t know how much he would miss him. (Alexa, play Let Her Go by Passenger...)

On that same note, all those years separated allowed him to develop a personality and identity of his own, and a very defined and strong one at that. (Yes, poor Stan meanwhile spent that time pretending to be Ford. Ironic.) The Stan twins have also managed to be competent at what was once their weak spot, something they relied fully on their brother for. Stan has managed to learn and understand complex physics to fix the portal. Ford, on the other hand (and we’re focusing more on his feelings, here), has definitely learned how to defend himself physically.

Second, Ford was severely humbled by the narrative. He thought he would get to be the hero, when the hero was actually his brother. “Stanley Pines was the man who saved the world, not me.” His pride was a great barrier between him and Stan. And on what regards his self-loathing and subsequent thirst for external validation, he has learned to seek love in the right places! His family. Stan.

Stan, who always loved him unconditionally, who never considered him a freak in the first place. Stan, who is now his priority, above his scientific ambition.

And finally, third—the incestuous feelings headcanon. Why repress, Ford? Jump Stan! 😌 💋 That is something they can... resolve between themselves, if you catch my drift. They have all the time in the world stuck together, just the two of them, on a small boat.

Have I finished yapping? No, not yet, not quite. I need to wrap things up with another excerpt from the 2023 interview, aka my favorite interview ever:

[...] and it’s always sweet to see them come together again, because they’re so full of themselves, but they are also both so damaged they desperately need each other.

Diversity wins! The codependency of your gay incestuous ship is mutual! 🥳

After all, like Ford himself said, “I don’t just want someone to come with me, Stanley, I want it to be you.”

[theladyheroine]

🎵 Little Blues & Dancing Shoes 🎵

Movie! Shadow x Platonic! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Some Comfort

Word Count: 1,802 words

⚠️ Warning: The reader is a little sad for the first half, but don’t worry things get better!

Summary: Hello everyone! This isn’t the end of my Shadow fics, & I am planning more for the SCU in the future. But I figured this would be a good way to wrap things up! This is the song I used, but I hope you all enjoy! Thank you!

6:45PM

The numbers glowed under Shadow’s eyes as he examined the stove’s electric timer. He kept looking at it, as if his gaze would miraculously make the time go faster. 

You were never this late before. 

He turned his head towards the window and watched the sunset turn the deepest orange against the mountains. The vibrant colors now fading into a dark palette. 

It was going to be night soon. Just where on Earth were you? 

Shadow wondered if he should go get you. He knew the address of your workplace, words and numbers you had him memorize in case of emergency. But that was limited to calls on the telephone you bought for the kitchen. Not wanting someone suspicious to discover your little buddy. 

He would be quick; teleporting to and from the house would be a cinch for him. If it was dark out no one would notice him either. But what if you already left? He didn’t want to go searching for you if you weren’t there. 

Shadow’s thoughts quickly dissolved as a loud THUMP hit the door. He watched with narrow eyes, but then the doorknob started to jiggle up and down. He heard the THUMP sound again and a couple grunts, then a loud “OW!” behind the door.

“Shadow!” You called. “Shadow there!”

He exhaled, letting his body relax as he walked up to the door. 

“Yes!!” Shadow answered back. He heard you breathe a sound of relief before shouting again.

“Hey bud—if you’re by the door, can you open it for me please! The keys are stuck real good this time!” 

Shadow hummed and quickly turned the lock. You stumbled inside, clutching your belongings as Shadow caught you. 

“Well, don’t you have good timing?” You breathed. 

Shadow nodded, “You really should get the door fixed.”

Quickly you took off your jacket and pried the key from the lock. “Yea, sorry buddy. I’ve been meaning to, just-haven’t found the time yet…” 

“But thank you, by the way! And sorry for being late, I got held up at work and the bus was super late today. Thought I’d have to walk back.” 

Shadow shook his head, “That’s alright. Just glad you’re safe.”

You smiled; he was always looking out for you, but you hoped you hadn’t worried him too much. 

Unfortunately though, Shadow was a keen observer. And something about your smile made him feel doubtful. It was too quick, too flat. Even your eyes looked dull under the lighting.

As you put away your things, you pulled out your phone and started typing. Shadow was amazed at the concept of pocket technology, and he knew it held great importance nowadays. Although recently, you’ve been getting a lot of emails. And from your expressions, Shadow couldn’t tell if they were good or bad ones. You just seemed very eager to answer.

“[Y/N]?” 

No answer. 

“[Y/N]?”

Nope. 

Shadow walked over and tapped your arm. 

“Hey—”

“AH!” 

You jolted at his touch and Shadow raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you alright?” He asked. 

“O-Oh, yes I’m fine! Sorry Shadow, I’m just a little busy right now.” You quickly put your phone away and wandered over to the fridge, looking for something to get dinner started. But to your surprise, the fridge was nearly empty. 

Less than half-a-dozen eggs and some week-old scraps sat on the shelves, along with a small milk carton and a bag of apples. Hardly what you’d call a proper dinner. 

“Aw—no!” You facepalmed, “I knew I forgot something! I was supposed to go to the store today!” 

You gave a worried look then rushed over to the pantry, but got the same result. All that was in there were snack boxes and some espresso candy for Shadow. Which already had a pretty good dent in it.

Your head hung low as you leaned onto the pantry door, clearly embarrassed. Shadow walked over and put a comforting hand on your arm. 

“It’s fine, there’s gotta be something in here we can use.” 

You purse your lips together, then an idea pops in! 

“Hey! Why don’t we order pizza instead?” 

“Pizza?” Shadow mimicked, “That should suffice.” 

“Great! I’ll just see what’s open right now and then we can—”

Before you could pull out your phone again, you patted down your pockets. Checking each one frantically before whirling around in a circle. 

“Crap! My wallet’s in my jacket—” You combed your hair with your hand, and Shadow looked at you strangely. 

You seemed far less relaxed than usual, restless even. Something wasn’t right, and running all over the place most definitely wouldn’t help. 

“I am so sorry, lemme just look for it real qu—”

Shadow grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. It didn’t hurt, but you weren’t expecting such strength from someone his size. It was like someone super glued you in place before you  finally shuffled your feet back. 

You turned around, and saw a frown on your friend’s face. It wasn’t his typical droning or any distressed look. 

“Shadow…are you okay?” 

He glanced to the side before he let you go. “I should be asking you that. But first—stop apologizing.” 

Your eyes widened. 

“You’ve been doing it since you got here. You need to stop.” 

You swallowed; had you really been repeating yourself? 

You put your hands in your pocket, opening your mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. You almost said it again. 

“I–I didn’t mean to worry you Shadow. It’s just…been a long day.” 

You trudged over to the table and flopped into a seat. “Things have just been a bit hectic lately. Work’s been a little crazy, and I haven’t had too much time on my hands.” 

“Didn’t mean to make you upset though,”

You rested a hand on your cheek, only to groan in defeat as your phone buzzed. Your demeanor had deflated into a pile of mush, and Shadow couldn’t find any more words to say. 

Words had never been his strong suit. Not since his time with her. 

Even then, Maria did most of the effort. Playing games, picking movies, even dancing were all left to her. Leaving Shadow to enjoy her company as long as he liked. 

Yet here he was with you, someone who had welcomed him into their home. Someone he could have peace around, and hold onto. When he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet, you were there to pick him up. 

He could rely on you, but right now, you needed him.

You had pulled your phone out to check the notification, but Shadow was swift. He grabbed it in one smooth motion. 

“Shadow!! Hey—”

Just as you stood, he teleported away.

“Wh—Shadow?!” You gawked. 

After a moment, he reappeared. Standing on top of the counter with your precious phone in hand. You attempted to grab it from him, scolding him for such behavior, but Shadow didn’t care. He swatted you away as he vigorously started pushing buttons. 

Or at least tried to. It took awhile for the screen to recognize his touch, the gloves likely didn’t help. He finally found the app he was searching for, then held the phone out to you.

“Play this.” 

Your mouth hung open, “Huh?” 

“Just play the song, please.” Shadow turned his head, waiting. 

There was no use arguing with him; Shadow had a firm state of mind. He might even hide your phone if you didn’t listen. 

Sighing, you turned up the volume and pressed the PLAY button. Letting soft, bubbly music fill the kitchen. 

What’s that playing on the radio? 

Why do I start swaying to and fro?

“Hey!” You exclaimed. “Did you watch Grease without me?” 

Shadow smirked, “Maybe.” 

Then he did something unexpected: he held out his hand to you. 

“Sometimes, your feelings–your emotions get stuck. Your body needs help releasing them, but music is good for that.” 

His words soaked in your sorrows like a wet sponge. They took a hold of you, and you grabbed his hand. 

“Guess..you’re right.” You breathed. “When’d you get so wise?” 

“Actually, a good friend taught me that. She liked to dance.”

You smiled, putting both hands in his. 

“Well, she sounds amazing.”

A melody that's never the same!

A melody that's calling your name

And begs you please! Come back to me!

You took two steps forward, striding with the beat as Shadow took two steps back. Then vice versa. 

The music softened your shoulders as it carried you. You swayed as you both stepped to the right. Then to the left, shuffling until you started to turn. 

Shadow followed in perfect sync and you two shimmed in a half circle, playfully swinging your arms to the beat. You gently tugged him closer to the edge, he took the hint and jumped down, hands held higher at the height change. 

“Hey you’re pretty good at this!” You grinned. So did Shadow. 

“Thank you.”

I'll be waiting by the radio!

You'll come back to me 

Someday, I know!

“Been so long since our last goodbye!” You sang. “But I’m singin’ as I cry-y-y!” 

You hopped up and down at the last verse, jerking poor Shadow forward. The second half of the song rolled around and you were basically leading at that point. Unknown to you, his big gloved hands fell limp as you went on. He almost looked like a ragdoll as you danced and Shadow couldn’t be happier. 

Time seemed to move slower, yet the outro of the song drew near as the lyrics shifted. In that time you and Shadow shuffled in a full circle, going round and round til the final words. You ended in a grand “TA-DA” pose with your hand held up, earning a l laugh from the hedgehog.

A bit of laughter burst from you too. Then, you bent down on one knee, reaching Shadow’s level. 

Without warning, you tossed your arms around him.

Shadow didn’t flinch but instead fell still under your touch. At first you feared hugging was too much, but you had to adjust yourself when Shadow pressed his hands against your back. Burying his head in the base of your shoulder. 

The phone had already switched to a different song, but no one heard it. Your voice played just above the music, loud enough for only Shadow to hear.

“Thank you, Shadow. You’re such a good kid.”

“Thank you,” He mumbled. “You’ve been such a good friend.”

After a few long seconds you two pulled away, and you rubbed the top of his spiky head. 

“Now, how ‘bout we order that pizza!” You laughed. “I’m actually starving right now.” 

You went to grab your phone and wallet, scrolling through countless pizza toppings. Leaving Shadow with the warmth of your embrace. Something he hadn’t felt in such a long time. 

“Maria would’ve loved you.” He thought.

🩵 —THE END— 🩵

(Quick sidenote: I hope I timed the music right! Let me know if it’s a little funky!)

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Viktor’s younger sibling

Viktor x sibling!reader

warnings:

a/n: im so sorry if this sucks so bad im soooo sorry its my first arcane fic

prompt: anonymous: “Hooray for open requests!!! Maybe hc for being Jayce or Viktor's younger sibling? And accompanying them to the lab?”

you and viktor never thought you’d make it out of the undercity, but viktor was gifted. he helped give you a better life

heimerdinger helped you find your place in piltover, viktor wouldn’t let you get left behind

“y/n deserves to go to a good school. have advanced classes. they can handle it.” -viktor

“i have no doubt, especially if y/n takes after you” -heimerdinger

you’d come a long way, farther than you ever thought you guys would go

“i’m glad i have you as a brother, vik” -you

“you’re just saying that because you have a nice plate of food in front of you” -viktor

“it doesn’t hurt” -you

even if viktor was your older sibling, you devoted yourself to sticking up for him

especially when you lived in zaun, since viktor was not treated kindly

“no more fighting up here?” -viktor

“i hope so, but just because we’re in piltover doesn’t magically solve discrimination. we’re still outsiders” -you

“why do you say that? has something happened?” -viktor

“just the way the people up here act” -you

you two still made the most of the opportunity with your studies, moving up in piltover

viktor soon met jayce, which you had mixed feelings of

maybe you were a little prejudiced againts topsiders still, even after all this time

“hey, who’s this!” -jayce

“viktor’s sibling, y/n. who are you?” -you

he liked you though!

you started to accompany them as they worked, especially intrigued by hextech

you were sort of an “intern” as they liked to call you

but it was worth it, experiencing something so fascinating

“y/n, stand back” -viktor…experimenting

“fineeee” -you

after some time working together, you saw a future in this

but not everyone saw it your way

you started coming around to jayce when he convinced mel not to pull the plug on hextech

“don’t act like im not your favorite” -jayce

“you’re far from my favorite” -you, jokingly

after some time, viktor grew ill and you grew more worried

you wanted to care for him but he simply would not let you

and he hated letting you see him that way

“viktor, i’m your sibling. please don’t shut me out, i won’t let you.” -you

“i’m fine, y/n. please, do not stress over my health.” -viktor

“come on, viktor. you know as well as i do something is wrong. you fainted!” -you

“yes, and i have better things to do than ‘rest’ as you keep asking me to do” -viktor

“you’re impossible” -you

“takes one to know one” -viktor

viktor pushed you away as he got sicker, leaning into his work

the hexcore was the breaking point

he showed up to your door in tears in remorse for sky’s death, you knew it was bad when he told you that you were right

“viktor, you’re not well. it’s time to rest” -you

“i don’t think i can after this” -viktor

you reached out to jayce after this incident, viktor left and you didn’t think you could follow

“he thinks you worry too much, he doesn’t want to be a burden” -jayce

“then will you help him? i don’t want him to be alone” -you

you gave him a hug and hoped for the best

but maybe he was destined to fail

you fell apart when you heard of the attack on the council, even more so when you saw viktor within the hexcore

“what did you do?!” -you

“i did what you asked! i helped him!” -jayce

you visited viktor every day regardless, usually ignoring jayce as he worked

and jayce really tried to make it up to you

“i don’t think he knows how much he’s done for me” -you, breaking silence after jayce hands you a pastry

“how so?” -jayce, timidly

“i could still be in zaun. i could be starved, suffering, and wasting my talents. but i’m here—because of him. he gave me the opportunity of education, safety, peace of mind and i feel like i failed him” -you

“i can’t imagine he sees it that way. you used all your resources and focused on yourself. that’s what he wanted for you, not to get involved in our messes” -jayce

when viktor woke up, he wasnt the same. he was a shell of himself. it caused you a lot of unease

your hug was weakly returned, and at first you thought it was just his recovery, but you soon found he was changed.

you stepped back, finally heeding years of warnings viktor had given you about worrying for him, caring for him, trying to help

you felt you were on your own, maybe it was for the best as you pursued your interests and career

and jayce went his own way pushing you away as well

but you chased him anyways and ended up in a dark, cruel world—the future viktor created

“where the hell are we?” -you

“i told you to leave! you shouldn’t be here!” -jayce

“i don’t…i don’t know where here is? you’d prefer to be alone in this?” -you

the mission changed as time went on, you loved viktor but you saw what came of the world

and jayce felt the need to try to convince you, but you’d already made up your mind

“we have to stop this. any way we can.” -you

“wha—i had a whole speech planned?” -jayce

“don’t want to hear it. viktor died when jinx attacked the council. this is…someone else’s work” -you

jayce and viktor taught you well, and soon enough you were back where you needed to be—and jayce took lead

but it wasn’t so simple, war broke out and all your hard earned time suffering in a broken timeline paid off as you fought against noxus

you watched from afar and viktor and jayce were taken from you and you felt…at peace

taglist: @summersimmerus //

[gearsandhammers]

YOUR KIDS WOULD BE BEAUTIFUL : JAYCE TALIS X M!READER

synopsis : you're meeting jayce's mom, ximena for the first time. you and ximena bond while making dinner, and as you all sit down to eat, ximena inquires about.. the future.

warnings / tw : talks abt having kids , i don't know which flavor of latino he is so now he's mexican cuz yes , i didn't put much thoughts into how children worked cause obviously adoption but they wouldn't look alike anyway don't think about it too much , really short cause i was sick , jayce is such a baby i love him sm , grammarly is my beta

pairing : jayce x male reader | m/m

author's notes : i don't think about jayce all that much cuz vik is my pookie, but it's kinda refreshing writing jayce scenarios. sorry i got sick in the middle of writing this, that's why it's really short.. also, i'm not latino all i have is 5 years of spanish so i apologize if anything i wrote is offensive or something 😭

Jayce talks very highly of his mom. They're very close, especially having that experience in the snowstorm. Jayce loves his mom, she's basically his best friend, and maybe tied with Viktor.

You and Jayce stand in front of their door, Jayce's hand on your waist and your hand hesitantly raised to the knocker.

"I know it's cliché or whatever, but what if she doesn't like me..?" You look up at him, and he smiles back at you, with his adorable frickin tooth gap.

"I promise, querido, she's going to love you, maybe as much as I do," he replies. You take a deep breath and nod. You take the knocker and let it drop on the door several times. The door swings open almost immediately as if she were waiting at the door for you two.

"Cariño! Hello, hello! Come in, please." She shakes your hand before pulling you and Jayce into a hug.

Jayce sits down at the table as you and Ximena dance around the kitchen, working your magic with a startling amount of chemistry.

· ─ ─ ─ < ⟨ ⚙︎ ⟩ > ─ ─ ─ ·

About half an hour later, you all sit at the table, spread with plates and bowls of heavenly-smelling foods─ tamales, pozole, and other traditional foods. As you all eat, you chat idly about Jayce's childhood, and Ximena shows you photos of him as a baby.

"He was so cute as a child. Not to say he isn't now." She laughs. You turn to him and flash him a smile.

"Yeah, he is." Jayce playfully swats your arm and Ximena grins.

"On the topic of children.." She adds, and you and Jayce freeze, startled. "You two would have such beautiful children if that was possible. But either way, adoption is one of the most wonderful deeds someone can do for a child who's lost their parents." She continues. Jayce buries his face in his hands, turning beet red. You turn a similar shade of pink, looking in between him and Ximena.

"Uhm, it isn't really something we've talked.. or thought about. But it's always a possibility." A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, and you look up at Jayce. He peeks at you through his fingers before lowering his hands to reveal his bright red face, his adorable toothy smile, and his tooth gap that always makes you giggle. You admire him, he takes care of you and Ximena so well. He would be an amazing dad.

"Yeah, maybe kids would be nice."

sorry this one was so short, i got sick and didn’t want to write something that just sounded dogshit so i tried to just tie it off before i went cuckoo, anyways hope you enjoyed! xo, kai <3

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 30

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1300

Masterlist

———————————————————————

The waiter arrived at our table and placed two slices of cake with cups of coffee in front of us. It was 5 PM, and I was sitting in a tearoom, facing Lucy. Three weeks had passed since my breakup with Alessia, and this was the first time I was seeing Lucy again. I had wanted to maintain some distance, as I was still shocked by my breakup, which had hurt me deeply. We had exchanged a few messages to check in on each other. She had asked if we could meet this week, and I had agreed, in a neutral place—the tearoom.

"We've been reduced to having tea together!" she said with a teasing smile.

"Tea is just fine, Lucy," I replied, returning her smile.

She looked as beautiful as ever, in a much more casual outfit than usual: jeans, a sweater—her Sunday look.

"What are you doing afterward?" she asked.

"I'm babysitting Jeanne tonight!"

She made a face that made me laugh.

"Well, duty calls—I'm a godmother!"

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Her blue eyes, which I had truly missed.

"Ona, I have a proposition for you. If you have no plans next weekend, come with me to Marseille! My party is organizing a conference this weekend, where elected officials are invited. As mayor of a large city, I have to be there Saturday afternoon. For the rest, I'll sneak away!" 

I had no plans for the next weekend, but I wasn’t sure if I would accept.

"Don't tell me I’m going to have to present my business, huh?" I replied with a mocking smile.

"No, young lady, I’m asking you to come along."

Deep down, I really wanted to go. I let her stew for a bit, hesitating. I could tell she was getting irritated by it, which secretly amused me.

"Okay, Ona, if you don’t want to come, then don’t—end of story!" Lucy concluded the conversation.

Before leaving the tearoom to pick up Jeanne at Alexia’s, I kissed Lucy on the cheek, thanking her for the coffee.

I added, "See you next weekend then!"

She looked at me, surprised.

"Well, yes, we’re going to Marseille, right?"

I hurried off, giving her a final wink.

On the way to the train station, I was a bit lost in my thoughts. I had agreed because I wanted to spend the weekend with her. I had missed her. But at the same time, I was scared. Scared of the unknown, because I didn’t know where things were going. I wanted to take my time after Alessia; the wound was still fresh. And I knew I was going nowhere with Lucy. But the desire was too strong. The train ride went by very quickly. We chatted with half the train, Lucy knowing almost everyone. I was always impressed by her notoriety, even outside the city. It had been the same on the train from Lyon. Her face had graced the local and even national newspapers several times. She was the mayor of the largest city in France, and her age at her first election—32—had impressed everyone. Moreover, she was one of the rising stars in her political party, and I had even read that she could have a more national career in the near future, within a government. I watched her closely during the journey, talking, chatting, smiling.

We arrived at a small hotel by the Old Port that she had booked herself. She didn’t want to stay in the large, charm-free hotel where all the elected officials were staying. I was surprised when she handed me the key to my room. She laughed openly when she saw my face.

"You didn’t think you’d be sleeping in my room, did you? I’m not an easy girl!"

I laughed in return.

I spent the day walking around, visiting Marseille. I ended it at Prado Beach. The sun was burning my back, my feet buried in the sand, and I listened to the sound of the waves in the background. A voice pulled me from my drowsiness.

"My God, Ona, you’re going to cook out here!"

I turned around, it was Lucy, who had swapped her chic outfit for a stunning coral dress.

"It’s after 6 PM, and it’s September!" I replied.

"And we’re in Marseille! Come on, turn around, I’m putting on some sunscreen," she said.

She told me about her day, her speech, the people present... but soon enough, I stopped listening. I was focused on her hands. The feel of her hands on my skin made my entire body shiver. She took care to massage me, playing with my nerves, sliding her hand lower towards my buttocks, and a little more towards my breast. I was in a highly excited state, holding back from moaning. I imagined her smiling behind my back, pleased with the effect she was having. 

She stopped. I felt her breath behind my ear.

"You look stunning in that swimsuit!"

I ended my suffering by standing up and diving into the cool Mediterranean water.

That evening, we ate at a small restaurant by the sea. I asked her about her future after the upcoming elections. I remembered asking her the same question that first time at the bar, in front of her house. She had been evasive then.

"I’m not really sure. I just know that I want to travel for the first two months. After that, it all depends..."

"I’ve read that you might have big roles in the future, like minister!" 

She smiled.

"Don’t always believe what the newspapers say. To be honest with you, it was offered to me once—secretary of state."

I widened my eyes in surprise.

"And you didn’t accept?"

"I was much happier in my city, directly impacting people’s lives, than in a secretary of state role where I’d be useless. It was the secretary of state for sports! Sports! Can you believe it? I only do it once a month!"

I burst out laughing. We finished the evening by strolling along the corniche until we reached a wooden pier. Despite the beginning of autumn, it was warm. The sky was clear, with a magnificent full moon. We sat there, on the pier, in silence, contemplating the view. I felt good, the wind on my back, the smell of the sea, the effect of the white wine in my body. I had an impulse. To swim. To take a midnight dip. I had been doing this since I was young, during my vacations in Corsica. I loved it. 

I looked around, no one was in sight. I started undressing, layer after layer, until I was in my underwear, under Lucy’s amazed gaze, which amused me greatly.

"Aren’t you going to stop, Ona? What are you doing?"

I was now laughing, standing naked before her.

"There’s no one around! I love midnight swims. Don’t tell me you don’t like it?" I said with a wink.

She looked around, stressed.

"Maybe as a child! You’re crazy!"

I turned towards her before diving into the water, calling out: "I didn’t know you were so uptight, Lucy!"

The contact of the water with my skin was delicious as I swam among the shadows of the clouds created by the moon. A few seconds later, she was behind me, naked as well.

"You’re really a little devil, Ona!" 

She began kissing me, wrapping her legs around my torso. My whole body electrified. We were standing in the water, the waves reaching our breasts. We kissed passionately, hungrily, reliving sensations we hadn’t had in weeks. We repeated the same gestures. Together we bit, licked each other’s necks. Together our hands wandered lower, from our breasts to our intimate areas. Together we penetrated each other in a shared rhythm. Together we reached climax, eyes locked, with the moon in the background. My breath was cut short, my legs trembling.

That night, I found myself in her room. When I woke up, she was already standing, watching me from the bathroom door.

"Up already?"

"Yes, I was keeping an eye on you."

I furrowed my brow.

"Keeping an eye on me?"

"Yes, to make sure you didn’t run off in a taxi like last time!"

She smiled.

[tanukitsuneko-suki]

build episode 37 thoughts:

- the suit actor for evol rabbit has a really nice ass

- the evol trigger doesn’t work even when he’s in sento’s body. i think it would be really funny if the reason why it fails is because he does not have love in his heart (ryusen love each other clearly that’s why the evol trigger works for them 😂)

- “sloppily possessing a human body is probably why i still can’t use the pandora box” no you’re just ugly

- I MISSED YOU SO MUCH. MY BABY

- HE CAN'T HENSHIN??!!?!?!?!?!?! IT'S SO FUCKING OVER YOU GUYS

- to be honest i thought the opening was kinda underwhelming when i first watched build but rn i'm in the middle of watching it and felt myself become teary-eyed what the fuck what the fuckkk

- 'my dna in you has been stripped away' oh okay so it's not selfcest then

- are we fucking serious

- my alien wife who is not an alien now so i cant even claim to be a monsterfucker anymore

- k-kazusen..(i get taken out the back and shot) (i really don't ship it as i am a senryu truther. but i would understand if this brought someone in a very deep rabbit hole..)

- my crackship (vernage and evolt)

- i wonder if evolt's personality changes slightly depending on who is his host (eg. becoming more curious about how humans work when he's with sento, aggressively attacking the country while he was with banjo, loving the 'game' and being playful while he was with soichi)

- in my head evolt isn't really a person in the conventional sense, but a culmination of impulses, the aggregation of desire and instinct. just like how the pandora box aroused the hidden ambitions and ruthlessness of everyone exposed to it, evolt for me at the moment is the personification of all these stray impulses, who does technically have its own thoughts but mostly goes along with the stupid selfish desires of those around it

- banjo asking gentoku to make him a rider as if gentoku wasn’t chilling by the sofa as the guys with actual illegal experiment knowledge aren’t the ones gassing the smashes up

- “i can’t do that for you. i don’t know a thing about science” i started tearing up giggling 😭😭 YEAH LIKE I SAIDDD

- “i got the job…” …BECAUSE OF NEPOTISM!??? IS HE GONNA ADMIT TO BEING A NEPO HIRE 😭

- 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

- this heated drama between men..

- “but i ended your girlfriend’s life” yeah damn his guilt runs deep because even EYE forgot about that

- nothing is funnier to me atm than kazumin and banjo setting their grudges aside to ask gentoku for help and he just. “I KILLED YOUR FRIENDS DO YOU REMEMBER‼️”

- gentoku: i killed your girlfriend

banjo: exactly.

gentoku: so why are you asking me

banjo: because of that, i didn’t want to lose anyone i cared about

second kasumi-sento parallel oh wow oh mann

- BANJO’S VOICE CRACKED OHHHHH EIJI AKASO YOU’RE DOING TOO MUCH YOUR CHARACTER SO TRAGIC YOUR SETTING TOO QUEER

- SENTO’S PHONE CALLING ENOUGHHHHHH

- i had to pause for a moment and stare outside because i had tears in my eyes when evolt said “even if you won’t see sento again?” GUYS PLEASE THIS BIG BAD VILLAIN OF THE SEASON IS A ONE-TRICK PONY ASS CLOWN AND YALL FALL FOR IT EVERY SINGLE TIME 😭😭

- evolt isn’t a mastermind he’s just a guy who discovered that if you threaten sento or banjo the other guy will for SURE do what you want . he just stumbled upon this bullshit cheat code and started using it every single goddamn time

- inukai looks really good acting like a villain asshole

- “i can erase his personality whenever i feel like it” ok now i’m not laughing

- kazusen..

- KAZUSEN… why are they getting moments all of a sudden.. stop it..

- jagaimo 😭😭😭😭😭😭 okay 🥔

- WAIT HE’S RIGHT…TOUTO HOKUTO SEITO RIDERS..TEAM UP..

- “but i can help build for a better one” HAHA

- MY WIFE😭😭😭

- AI WA MAKENAI 😭😭😭😭😭

- MAGMA WASN’T HIS FINAL FORM!?!?!!😭😭

- “we’ll create a future using the power you gave me” Ok

- i started tearing up cackling again what the actual FUCK banjo ryuga 😂🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

- HE’S BACK. ah. evolt!sento lasting for exactly two episodes…

- black hole… SHINDA HENSUU DE KURIKAESU. KAZOE KOTO GA HARANDA NETSU

- SENRYU REUNITING..! ALSO THE WAY BANJO CALLED OUT SENTO’S NAME…AUUUUUU

- “… you are—“ oh SHIT IS THIS KATSURAGI

- WE’RE HIT WITH A GODDAMN AMNESIA PLOT??!!!!!! FUCK OFF 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- i hate it here

[vi-is-badass]

At this point I’ just going to break this down into characters because this is going to be long… well longer. (At this point I feel kinda bad that I can’t seem to be brief. Haha. I have a tendency to overexplain so I don’t get misunderstood.)

I’m going to get the short ones out of the way first.

Jinx

Yeah, we do completely agree on Jinx and her ending. I simply misunderstood you and also definitely overcomplicated it haha. (me overcomplicating something? surely not.)

I think the point you made about Jinx and Vi's contrasting flaws is really neat. I hadn't actually thought about it that way, but you're absolutely right.

I also wanted a hug. That family hug at the end of episode 5 healed something in me haha.

Caitlyn

Huh, I guess I linked the wrong post. Oh well. But I definitely agree with you on Caitlyn. The biggest weakness of her arc is that it was a casualty of the limited time and the shift away from the political themes the first season and the first act presented.

Since I’m a writer I look at it more from a character writing/structural standpoint. So, while I do agree that Caitlyn’s arc ultimately didn’t work, I think I differ from other people in what section of the story ultimately hurt her arc the most. I felt like it was the second act that hurt her arc the most rather than the conclusion.

I think the way they framed her eventual betrayal of Ambessa is the biggest issue for me. Her half of the story in act 2 is centered around her growing distrust of Ambessa rather than confronting her actions against the undercity or showing the self-hatred over her actions she tells Jinx about in act 3.

This makes it so that what she says about her actions "We can't undo our crimes" and "hating you, I hated myself" rings hollow.

I think this hits me as especially odd because Arcane really likes to make characters have to look at the consequences of their actions. Look at Vi and Jayce. They're the two most consistently well intentioned characters in the show and despite those intentions they constantly make mistakes that the narrative makes sure they have to confront the consequences of. 

I’m going to expand on Jayce since I’ve already talked a lot about Vi haha.

Jayce's decision to resort to violence over peace when he raids the shimmer factory leads to the creation of hextech weapons and the death of a child at his hands. It warps his dream and puts them on the precipice of war. He has to face the consequences of how he gave ground on his morals and confront the privilege he has had. He immediately shifts focus to broker peace and destroy hextech weapons.

In season 2 Jayce's creation of hextech-- his dream-- is revealed to have worsened the class divide between piltover and Zaun and will lead to thousands of deaths. Even though his intentions are good he is forced to face the negative ramifications he didn't consider in his desire to bring about his dream through his experiences in the future. As a result he resolves to destroy it and stop Viktor.

It's a very basic “character does things with negative consequences and they are forced to face the consequences and grow” type narrative. This makes the moment they change feel earned and you understand their change. Caitlyn's arc in Act 2 lacks this.

Caitlyn doesn't have to see the police brutality happening at the barricades and checkpoints that we see in the "paint the town blue" montage.

Caitlyn doesn't have to confront the fact that people and children were imprisoned in Stillwater without true cause by enforcers and ambessa's soldiers in episode 4. She only sees Warwick's rampage and comments on the fact that she thought she'd seen the most warped creations of Zaunites, but apparently she was wrong.

She doesn't have to confront the fact that illegal arrests were happening under her watch or that some of those people were beaten for information as well.

She doesn't have to come face to face with the brutality that's happened with her at the helm. The show doesn't have her acknowledge or confront the fact that she has become the oppression she swore to Vi she would oppose in season 1.

Even if Caitlyn opposes these actions (something the show makes sure to remind us of), it doesn't change the fact that she's made the oppression of Zaun worse and actively participated in it through her role as the strike leader and the commander.

I can in some ways be okay with this because Ambessa is implied to be hiding the worst from Caitlyn so she can keep her hold on her (at least I think that's what the show was implying), but with that in mind I wish the show had scenes where we got to see her hesitation and self-hatred.

There was a cut scene of Caitlyn breaking down alone that I feel like the second act sorely needed. This would have been a great way to show that she hates this and she hates herself, but she feels like she has to continue because she's already in too deep.

Or at the very least have Caitlyn look conflicted in the background when she realizes Ambessa plans to attack a peaceful commune. Just some sort of conflict over her actions towards Zaun.

If there had been some variation of these things I would have found her turn more believable (ideally all of these options combined IMO). As it is, it's incredibly abrupt and makes the consequences Caitlyn does face for her actions feel less significant since they don’t feel tied to her actions against Zaun like they should.

So even though she does face consequences— she faces down Ambessa, gets stabbed, loses an eye, lets Jinx go, and gives up her counselor seat to Sevika— it inevitably feels hollow.

Do I think the consequences were handled perfectly? Not at all. I’ve made my feelings clear on the baffling choice to not show Caitlyn give her seat to Sevika, that people forgave her way too easily, and that her self-loathing/conflict is told to us after the fact rather than shown. But all of those issues come back to the second act for me.

Vi

Ooooh. I understand your point better now. I was thinking of it purely in the context of the finale. I do agree with your statement that Vi's powerlessness is integral to her character, but I think I can voice where I differ better now.

I think the biggest way in which we differ is in just how active/passive we think she is. I believe that in the first season, Vi's actions combined with everyone else's and the systemic and societal themes of Arcane are all responsible for bringing about the tragic ending of the season.

I do agree that Vi’s helplessness is an integral part of her character and I do believe there are parts of the series that make a clear statement on it like you said. I believe act 1 (season 1) is clearly making the statement you expressed.

But once again I believe the outcome of act 1 for Vi comes about due to a combination of her flaws and the sad reality that you can’t protect the people you love from these larger systemic issues and the violence that is born from them. (The super fun helplessness, responsibility, and guilt inherent to the experience of the oldest child.)

To expand on that statement I'm going to look at her impulsiveness and anger in the first season because it explains what I mean.

Vi’s flaws are part of what kickstarts the series. It’s her anger at topside over what happened on the bridge that causes her to want to strike out against topside. This causes her to lead the job that ends in the explosion. (We know this action and the consequences of it have major ramifications throughout the series.)

It’s Vi’s anger that leads her to impulsively lash out at Powder. Despite the understandable nature of the action (seriously. No one would react any better than this. In fact most people would likely react worse) and her attempt to almost immediately go back and fix things this is still a formative moment for Jinx, her relationship to Silco, and the series at large.

After she’s released from prison her impulsiveness causes her to charge in headfirst and attack Sevika to find her sister, alerting Silco to her presence which causes him to try and kill her before Jinx and Vi can reunite. This leads to the growing rift between Jinx and Silco and Silco’s hold on the undercity slipping.

Vi’s impulsiveness leads to her teaming up with Jayce for the shimmer raid. This leads to worsening tensions between the two cities and Jayce’s attempt at brokering peace.

And finally, at the tea party, Vi’s impulsiveness causes her to unintentionally push Jinx further away from her by reminding her of their dead family during Jinx’s breakdown. This is fueled by Vi’s desire to help but it’s her failure to stop and realize that what she’s saying is negatively effecting Jinx that leads to Jinx believing Vi can’t understand her. Which is part of what leads to her fully accepting the Jinx moniker and firing that rocket.

Her impulsiveness isn’t the only factor in these actions. Her other flaw of failing to accept change is also a massive factor, especially at the tea party, (and one I’ve already expanded on in other posts) but I still think this illustrates my point that many of Vi’s actions drive the story in some way. They are driven by her own motives rather than being reactions to what’s happening around her. Vi isn’t passive in season 1. 

Vi’s actions in season 1 clearly weren’t the only factor that led to this tragic outcome. Your points about Vi's agency being taken from her are valid and completely true. The flaws of all the characters involved came to a head along with the systemic strife. They go hand in hand. 

So it's not that I don't think Vi's powerlessness is a core piece of her character (It definitely is and I think you're right about the impact is has on her!) it's more that I don't see her as passive and is tragically part of the thing that propels the tragedy of the first season of arcane.

It's just that her good heart isn't allowed to make the impact she wishes so badly she could due to a combination of her own flaws, the flaws and actions of the characters around her, and the oppressive societal structure of arcane. It all comes together.

This isn't really a counter. Everything above is more of an expansion of my own thoughts on Vi's character, her flaws, and the kind of fascinating mix of agency and passivity she has throughout the season. Because I do agree with your core argument! I think you're right on the money in a lot of ways. I just view it a bit differently I guess.

I think the main reason I chafed against this idea is when I thought you were purely looking at it as a statement on the finale and this is primarily because Arcane drops the class themes in s2 act 2. So I instead mainly view her lack of impact on the finale as a failure of character writing.

I apologize for the long explanation and my first ramble. I didn't fully understand what you were saying the first time and was thinking of it purely in the context of the finale. Sorry about that. Plus, I hadn't really taken a step back and considered how her powerlessness was a statement from the show on the systemic issues present and was instead only looking at it from a single character perspective. I genuinely appreciate the new perspective!

I will admit that, while I still stand by my thoughts that she should have been integral to the final battle, I also acknowledge I can’t talk about Vi’s character objectively.

I relate a lot to Vi for many reasons I won’t get into here. It was this connection and The lack of impact she had on the final battle felt like it added insult to injury. I felt like her character arc was fumbled and then she didn’t even have a part to play in the conclusion to the series. It felt like she was an afterthought. 

So while I already explained why I don’t think the lack of impact worked I also acknowledge that I don’t think I can address your point the way I would like to because of my personal bias and I can’t tell right now if my personal feelings are the root of my pushback or if it truly doesn’t work for a conclusion to her character.

I actually think this video is really interesting. Not because I fully agree with it (there are a lot of points in the video I don't agree with and a lot that I do), but because I appreciate its intent.

I also fall in the same boat where I really liked the second season, but I didn't love it like I did the first and I appreciate that this is a video that wants to start a conversation. He wants to talk about why things didn't necessarily work for him, why it didn't seem to have the same impact as the first, and about how he wants to hear why those things might have worked for others.

So much discourse about this season has framed it as either the best thing ever, above any criticism, or the worst thing ever with no redeeming qualities and it's made it very frustrating and demoralizing to try and talk about it online.

I want to talk about how I loved aspects of this show and that I was also let down by certain aspects of the show as well, but anytime I try and talk about criticism it's rarely met with a genuine conversation.

I would love to hear how people interpreted things differently from me, why they felt that way, how it connected with them, because I feel like that's the purpose of stories. It's never going to resonate with anyone the same way and there may have been things I missed.

I also know I haven't always worded what I've wanted to say and my criticisms the way I want to get across what I mean. It has never been my intent to sound like I wasn't open to discussion, different interpretations, or counterpoints. I would like to actually talk more about this season and hear other people's thoughts as well.

[t34rdr0pz]

why do my feelings scare everyone away